Gelassenheit
by HauntedCinders
Summary: After the war, Ginny did everything in her power to forget what she had lost. She moved to New York, changed her last name and gave up magic. But after a phone call from her boss, Ginny finds her new, safe, magic-less life threatened as she is forced into the surreal world of the Avengers. And then there's that one Sokovian guy who just won't leave her alone…
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for my imagination.**

* * *

You could rattle the stars.

You could do anything, if you only dared.

 _Sarah J Maas_

 _Throne of Glass_

* * *

 _Approximately Eight Months in the Future_

The room was dark, the air cold, heavy and stifling. She sat alone, barely moving as she felt the invisible stares scrutinise her figure from the opposite side of the glass. They were waiting, watching, wondering as to when she would make a mistake and when she did, she knew that they would surely pounce.

She supposed that she could understand their hesitance, even their fear of what she had done, but they _knew_ her. They knew her story, or at least some of it. It was the reason why she had been cast out from her job as their secretary. It was the reason why she had been replaced in the bloody recruit program in the first place.

They also knew that she was loyal to them, leaving her also wondering as to why they had her cooped up in this idiotic room in the first place. But Muggles were like that, she supposed. They always feared what they didn't understand and maybe, when she was in this room, they felt safer. It was stupid reasoning, but she could understand it.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said out loud, her voice echoing around the otherwise empty room and she leaned back casually in the wooden chair that they had given her. She knew that they could hear her. "I think I've proved again and again that I, while perhaps dangerous, am not actually out to get any of you. And I never lied, for your information. Omitted the truth? Absolutely. But everything else? That was true. All of it."

There was silence and she sighed to herself, closing her eyes briefly in weariness.

This wasn't going to be easy.

* * *

 _Present Time_

Sweat dripped down her nose, her hair stuck to her forehead, her skin was flushed, her muscles burned with a fire that she hadn't felt in years, and yet she didn't stop.

She couldn't stop.

 _Green, red, purple light._ The colours soared through her memory, just like the spells that had flown from the wizards and witches wands that had cast them.

Ginny punched a little bit harder, her hands and knuckles now aching something savage and she could begin to feel the worried stares of her peers around her as she hit the punching bag again and again.

 _Shrieks_. _Blood. Lifeless eyes. Dead bodies. Crying families._

She kicked the bag viciously. What had she done? What had she done so differently in order to live? Harry, Mum, Fred… Why was it that she was the one who survived?

 _Funerals. Flowers. Graves. Grief._

"Oi, Prewett," a voice yelled, wrenching her brutally out of the dark hole that her memories had been digging in her mind. For a moment, she was startled that someone actually wanted to talk to her. Most of the time, when she built herself into her 'dark zone,' as she liked to call it, the other people in the gym left her in peace and let her beat her anger and frustrations into the bag. But today, for some reason, someone wanted to talk to her. Ginny scowled to herself and wiped at her brow. Oh well. He would regret it.

Ginny looked at the man who had decided to approach her out of the corner of her eyes and stifled a groan. Great. Out of all of the guys that they could have sent to force her to stop, they had had to pick _him_. "What?" she snapped, as she aimed a particularly ferocious kick at the poor punching bag.

"Don't you reckon that you should stop now?" He gestured to the swinging bag. "You've been kicking and punching that thing for an hour at least."

"Does it look like I'm going to stop, Andrews?" Ginny replied mildly.

Andrews sent her an amused look. "Well, from where I'm standing, no. But, luckily for you, I don't give a damn about what you think."

"Then go away."

"Don't make me force you to step away from the punching bag, Prewett," Andrews said, the joking tone now gone from his voice.

Ginny glared at him, but reluctantly stepped away from the large, red bag, still breathing heavily.

Today of all days, she had just wanted to be left alone with the red punching bag and her suffocating memories, but even she wasn't brave enough to piss off Andrews.

"Go take a shower," Andrews said finally. "I'll have a look at your hands before you leave and," he held up a warning finer, "make sure you come this time, Prewett, or I won't allow you to come in here for the next two weeks."

"Fine," she muttered, before stalking off in the direction of the woman's change room.

Ginny had discovered The Ent Gym during her first week in New York three years ago and ever since then, well, it had been her hideaway, her place where she could let out all of her pain, hatred, and grief.

Her family and friends, or at least what was left of them, she thought bitterly, hadn't understood her decision to move to New York. They had wanted her to go somewhere peaceful and quiet, somewhere where she could heal and recuperate after witnessing the horrors of the war. After all, to them, she had only been a young, scarred 17-year-old girl.

But even then with all of her youth, Ginny hadn't wanted peace and quiet or the remembrance that would come with the supposedly 'serene' silence. Instead, she had wanted noise, people, and never ending movement. She had wanted anything that would allow her to forget. So she had spontaneously moved to New York - she never told her family where she had gone - had taken her mother's maiden name, accepted a secretarial job for a well-known company, and had allowed herself to slowly lose her guilt and anger at the war that had destroyed her life.

To say that she had never regretted her decision was an understatement.

Ginny winced as she gingerly unwrapped her hands, grimacing slightly at the welts that now covered her knuckles. She would have to make sure that she covered them up before she went to work tomorrow, or there would be questions and she _hated_ questions. When she had first gotten here, all there had been were questions. " _Why are you here?" her neighbours had asked. "What do you plan on doing here? How long do you plan on staying here?"_

She removed her hair from its tight ponytail, allowing the red locks to fall unfamiliarly down her back before digging around in her bag for her hairbrush. She rarely wore her hair out these days. Her secretarial position, which was actually now quite high, demanded that she looked professional at all times, so she used it as an excuse to constantly tie up her hair. Her boss was always bugging her about it, saying that she should wear it out every once in a while because it would look nice, but Ginny simply ignored her. But then and again, Ginny ignored a lot of things these days.

After brushing it out and then re-tying it up in her usual severe bun, she yanked off her sweat-drenched clothes, grabbed her towel and hopped into the showers. Ginny thought that the shower at the end of a session was always the best part. There was something so cleansing about the way that the water fell and to her, it wasn't just about washing away the dirt, but also washing away the pain and grief that she had arrived with. She knew it was stupid, but it made her feel whole again.

Ginny spent a little longer under the cold water than was necessary before climbing out of the small cubicle. She methodically pulled her work clothes back on, packed up her things, and left the stuffy room behind. Normally, she arrived at the gym in sweatpants and a loose hoody, but today was not like every other day and as she walked through the gym, the surprise in the air was almost palpable.

"What?" she challenged, as she glared around the large, dusty gym. "Never seen a woman in a skirt and blouse before?"

Her comment seemed to spark the people watching her back into action and soon, much to Ginny's grim amusement, the sound of skin hitting plastic and the clanks of metal upon metal filled the room once again. She turned around in satisfaction and unenthusiastically made her way to Andrews' small office in the corner, knocking on the wall beside the open door reluctantly.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked grudgingly.

"Prewett," Andrews said, his back facing her as he rifled through some files in one of the cabinets. "You know, I was half thinking that you weren't going to show up. I mean, you ignore me most of the time."

"Yeah, well," Ginny rolled her eyes, "This time, you sounded serious, so I thought that I had better show up."

Andrews turned around to face her and almost immediately, his eyes widened comically. "Holy shit, Prewett."

Ginny looked around herself in confusion. "What?"

The older man gaped at her openly. "You're wearing a skirt and blouse!"

Ginny folded her arms. "And? Why is that such an astounding fact? I am, after all, a woman and I do actually have a job."

"Sorry," he said ruefully, his eyes twinkling with slight embarrassment. "I just wasn't expecting it. That's got to be the first time that I've seen you in something so professional looking. What was it you said you did again?"

"I never said what I did," Ginny replied bluntly. "Now, are you going to check my hands or not, because I want to leave."

"So bossy," Andrews teased, but he gently grabbed her hands. "You really did a number on them this time, didn't you Prewett? How are you holding up, by the way?"

Ginny shrugged, eyeing the man warily as he grabbed a salve from one of his shelves. "I'm fine. Today's just one of those days."

Connor Andrews, the owner of The Ent Gym, had been there for Ginny ever since she had found herself standing lost in front of its huge double doors three years ago. He had taken one look at her ragged face and had given her a place in his gym and a punching bag. He never questioned, never asked what she had gone through and she had never told him. Instead, he had simply been there for her and Ginny knew that that was a debt that she was never going to be able to repay.

"Well, put this stuff on then," he said, chucking her the salve. "You know how it works. And you call if you need anything," he added to her seriously and Ginny nodded to appease him, even though they both knew that she wouldn't. She never had.

"Sure, sure," she said, before throwing him an impish smile and stalking out of the gym in her heels.

* * *

Ginny groaned sleepily as her ringtone pierced through her consciousness. God, why had she chosen that ringtone out of all the others she could have chosen? There had been so many nice sounding ones, but no, she thought to herself grumpily. She had had to pick the rude, piercing one.

She stumbled out of her cosy bed and cursed when she tripped over something soft on the ground. Where had she put that damn thing again? She finally found her phone in her gym bag after tripping around for the next several seconds in the dark. She sighed as she looked at the caller ID on the bright screen.

"Pepper, what's up," she said as clearly as she could manage, trying to sound like she hadn't just been fast asleep.

"Sorry, Ginny," the feminine voice of her boss said to her over the phone, "I know that you must have been asleep, but, well, I need you to come in. I'm sorting out something with Tony at the moment, and as you know, he takes up my time. Anyway, Maria needs you."

Ginny exhaled and sat down on the floor, rubbing her eyes blearily. "Does she really need me?"

"Yes," Pepper said, sounding apologetic. "There's been a situation in Sokovia and she needs all hands on deck."

Ginny narrowed her eyes, her mind beginning to process the new information. "What do you mean, 'a situation in Sokovia'?"

Pepper faltered over the phone and Ginny frowned. Pepper never faltered. Ever. "It's probably best if I let Maria explain that to you."

"You're talking about the Avengers, aren't you," Ginny said dead panned.

There was another pause before a hesitant, "Yes."

Ginny immediately pushed herself up off the floor. "So they actually want us to be involved this time, huh?"

"Well, they want us for the clean up." The words, 'like last time,' went unsaid.

For the Battle of New York that had occurred just over two years ago, the two women had been absent. Ginny had been in Norway at the time with Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis and Pepper had been bundled on a plane, forced to watch the horrifying show from above.

Ginny had quickly realised, after she first heard about the first aliens falling from the sky, that her job in Norway with Jane and Darcy had been a ruse to get Jane out of the country after Jane had spilled the beans that Thor was her boyfriend. She had immediately and desperately wanted to go back and properly use the magic that she had been gifted with, but her rational side hadn't let her, telling her that she had put too much effort into her new life to let it all go with a flick of her wand. She sighed internally. New York had been the time when she had felt the strongest temptation to use magic since she had left that whole world behind.

"When do you need me?" Ginny said finally.

"Within the hour. You need to arrive in the foyer of Avengers Tower. Someone will drive you to the location."

Ginny nodded absently, already heading over to her wardrobe and dragging out a large suitcase.

"I'll be there." And with that, Ginny hung up, tossing her phone on her bed.

Avengers Tower, huh? The 'situation' was obviously serious then, she thought grimly to herself as she manually began placing clothes into her bag.

Despite the connections that Ginny had with Pepper Potts and Maria Hill, Ginny had never been needed at Avengers Tower. After the Battle of New York, a new facility had been built for Stark's company and that was where she spent all of her time. Not once had she ever needed to go to Avengers Tower. Not once had she met Tony Stark, even though he was the boss of her boss. And not once had she met any of the Avengers. Pepper had invited her to numerous parties and get-togethers and had gone on about how Ginny should get to know the people that she worked with. Ginny had refused every single time.

But then and again, Ginny didn't really care either. There were people at work who complained about not getting invites, saying that because they worked for Stark they should be allowed to meet the Tony Stark and therefore all of the Avengers, but Ginny had never really seen the point in something like that. Besides, the last thing that Ginny wanted was to meet them and be reminded of the things that she had put behind her.

Ginny eyes subconsciously landed on the small, elongated box sitting towards the front of her shelf, waiting to be packed into her bag. It had been years since she had felt the handle of the ebony wand sit comfortably in the palm of her hand. She had taken it, or rather the box, to work with her every day, just like she had taken it to Norway, to France, to Germany, to Sweden…

She grabbed the box off the shelf and looked at it almost wistfully. For a moment, Ginny was tempted to open the seemingly harmless container and gaze and touch the object that had once been at the centre of her entire universe, but her itching fingers didn't raise themselves to lift the lid. Another day, she thought as she placed the precious package under some clothes in her suitcase. I'll get it out another day.

Ginny finished her packing quickly after that, not allowing herself to dwell on the fact that she had also placed her old, collapsible potions kit and books on magic in her bag. Some habits just never died, she thought regretfully, as she made sure that the books were well buried underneath her clothes.

After double-checking her apartment to make sure that she hadn't forgotten anything and sending a quick voice message to Andrews saying that she was going to be away for an indefinite amount of time and not to worry about her, Ginny left, her key clicking loudly in the old lock.

"Going somewhere, Red?" a voice asked her suddenly and Ginny spun around to see one of her neighbours trudging up the stairs. She looked at him quizzically. "Lift's broken," he muttered awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.

"Again?" she asked, forcing a small smile onto her lips.

"Yeah. So…" Chase paused. "Where are you going?"

Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. "Work trip. An indefinite one, I'm afraid."

"At two in the morning?"

"It was unexpected," Ginny said shortly. Merlin, this was awkward.

Chase nodded slowly. "Going anywhere interesting at least?"

"Uh, Scotland," Ginny said quickly, her own answer surprising her slightly. "It should be fun."

"Yeah. I travelled to Scotland with my parents once. The accents are great."

Ginny gave him a weak smile. "Right. Well, I should be going now. I'm on a bit of a tight schedule. So do you mind if you move? You're blocking the stairs."

Chase nodded again, a funny expression on his face, but jumped almost comically out of the way for her. "Uh, yeah, sure."

"Thanks."

"Do you need any help with your bag?"

"No."

"Oh, okay."

Ginny turned to leave, grateful to finally leave the awful conversation behind.

"Why are you still hiding?" Chase said suddenly. "You've lived here for three years and you go on like nothing ever happened to you. You have a job, new friends… I don't know how you do it."

Ginny's whole body froze. Surely he couldn't mean…? "I'm afraid that I don't understand what you're trying to say," she whispered stiffly.

"Yes, you do."

Shit. The war was exactly what he meant. A tense silence fell between them.

"Well then, if you know so well," Ginny said tightly, "then you would know to leave me the hell alone, wouldn't you?"

Chase ignored her. "You know, they're all looking for you, uh, the Ministry of Magic that is. Your family as well, for a matter of fact. There was something about it in the wizarding paper."

Ginny scowled deeply. "I know they are."

"And you're being called one of the most powerful young witches of our age." He turned to her, his eye strangely bright. "You know, I could hand you in. Everyone would be very grateful… But, luckily for you, I'm not going to do that, because you seem lost, Ginny. You seem lost and confused."

Ginny ground her teeth together. "Don't call me that and," she hissed dangerously, stepping closer to Chase's face, "if you ever say anything about me to anyone, then I'll make sure that you end up in St. Mungo's."

Chase shrugged. "I don't know what St. Mungo's is. This is America after all. But I'm not going to tell anyone. I just thought that you should know that you're being missed."

"I know that too," she said, irritation beginning to colour her voice.

"Then why don't you go back? I mean, I know that I don't really have any right to say anything to you-"

"Then don't say anything at all," Ginny interrupted harshly. "So like I said before, get lost, Wiles." And with that, Ginny grabbed her bag from its spot on the floor and started marching down the steps, leaving Chase Wiles and now her flat, which she had grown quite fond of, behind her.

She called for a taxi as soon as she exited her apartment block, Chase's words swirling around her head. How the hell had he even known who she was? Or even better, how hadn't she even realized that the gangly guy who lived one floor above her was a bloody wizard? " _Why are you still hiding?"_ Ginny glared at the ground as his seemingly innocent question dominated her thoughts. He had had no right to ask that to her. Absolutely no right at all.

It didn't matter that he had voiced the question that she had been asking herself for the last several months, because he just shouldn't have said it.

"Hey, lady! Are you getting in the cab or what?"

Ginny jumped and nodded quickly, wondering how long the car had been sitting there, before shoving her luggage in the back and clambering into the front seat.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked impatiently.

Ginny looked out the window. New York really was the city that never slept. "Avengers Tower."

* * *

 **I hope that you enjoyed the first chapter of this story! I'm excited about this one :D**

 **If you have any questions for me or anything like** **that, I'd be willing to answer them. Also, grammar and stuff is important to me, so if you find a mistake, then let me know.**

 **This story will be updated every Sunday unless something drastic and unexpected occurs and if I'm going to be away for an update, then I'll let you all know in advance.**

 **Anyway, until next week!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	2. Chapter 2

I can't go back to yesterday because

I was a different person then

 _Lewis Carroll_

 _Alice in Wonderland_

* * *

4 Weeks Later

Ginny stood awkwardly on the steps outside of the new Avengers Facility. Her hair had been done up in its usual tight, professional bun, she was dressed in a smart, modest black dress – because there was no way that she was going to wear one of those ridiculous skin-tight suits that everyone else wore – and the heels that she had chosen to wear, although elegant, were killing her feet. She looked out of the corner of eyes at Maria as she struggled not to fidget in irritation. The taller agent was standing next to her – dressed in one of those horrible aforementioned suits – looking as stern as she always did. Honestly, did that woman even know what a smile was? Ginny snorted derisively to herself. What right did she have to judge Maria, seeing as she couldn't even remember the last time that she smiled genuinely?

She withheld a sigh as her gaze landed on the small number of other people who were also deemed 'important' enough to meet the Avengers and nearly scoffed at the thought. _Important enough to meet the Avengers_. How ridiculous.

The last thing that she had ever wanted was to get wrapped up in their warped, supernatural world. Yet here she was, standing on the steps of the new Avengers Facility in upstate New York, about to meet the people who had just blown up a freaking city out of the sky with their bare hands. Merlin, did the whole universe hate her? First, it had been this entire new job and then there was that letter from Charlie that was sitting in her room…

She frowned as the words from the letter filled her mind. It was the first contact that she had had from her surviving family since the war. At first, she had been tempted to leave the suspicious owl outside, not wanting to read the letter that her brother had written, but curiosity had eventually gotten the best of her and when she had seen her brother's familiar, sprawling script… A little part of her had shattered into little pieces.

Ginny hadn't cried so hard in a long time.

She forcefully shook herself from her ugly thoughts and glared at the ground in irritation. Surely the oh-so-important Avengers should have arrived already? Because it felt like she had been standing outside for at least half an hour. She had things – important things, she might add – to do, and waiting out here was not helping her achieve those goals in the slightest. Besides, the sooner that they arrived, the sooner that she could go on pretending that they didn't exist.

"Uh, Agent Hill," she heard someone ask hesitantly, "when did they say that they were going to be here again?"

"Around 1400 hours," the agent replied shortly. "Why, do you have a problem with that, Agent Mosik?"

The woman who had asked the question shrank back slightly in Maria's presence, and turned her face away.

"No, Agent Hill," she muttered meekly.

Another awkward silence fell over the people gathered at the front of the building and Ginny sighed impatiently, checking her watch for about the fifth time. For Merlin's sake…

"Wait," she heard someone murmur, "is that them?"

Ginny perked up at the statement. It had better be them.

There was a pause as everyone squinted into the distance.

"Yeah, I think that it is," she heard someone else whisper excitedly and Ginny fought to not roll her eyes. What was the big deal about meeting the Avengers Initiative anyway? In fact, what was even the point of standing out on the stairs waiting for them? Because she was pretty sure that they were doing nothing except heightening the egos that she was sure each of the members of the Avengers possessed.

"Yeah, that's them," Maria said suddenly. "Everyone look sharp. Miss Prewett?" Maria said her name quietly. "You ready? You will, after all, be working with them for a large majority of the time and this first impression is important."

Ginny gritted her teeth, but nodded tersely. She was very well aware of what she would be required to do. Maria had all but ground it into her head for the last few days.

"You did read through the files that I gave you?"

Ginny nodded again, but this time, her confirmation was a lie. While she had had the time to read through each the files that she had been given on each of the Avengers, there had not been one part of her that had been willing to waste her time to do it. Besides, it wasn't as though she was planning to become their friends.

She had a feeling that she would definitely regret her decision, but if she needed to catch up, then those files were available to her anyway. A part of her felt slightly guilty for lying to Maria but she figured that it didn't really matter seeing as Maria would be introducing her to them all anyway.

One by one, the several cars that had been so far away only minutes ago pulled to slow tops in front of the large entrance. The cars were either new or extremely well cared for, judging by their shining coats of colourful paint. They were, except for one, incredibly fancy and she had absolutely no doubt that the expensive vehicles belonged to a certain billionaire. Ginny straightened as several of the car doors opened at once.

"A welcoming committee! Maria, you shouldn't have!" the gleeful, famously annoying voice of Tony Stark echoed out to them as the man in question stepped out of the first car, a white Audi; Ginny didn't know which model it was. He was dressed in a suit that had probably cost over several thousand dollars, with a pair of dark sunglasses covering half of his face and she made sure to keep her face carefully blank as he pretentiously made his way up the stairs.

"How are you doing, Maria?" he said.

The agent raised a perfect eyebrow. "Well," she said, "I would be doing a lot better if you hadn't decided to use this facility at last minute. Do you know how much work has gone into this thing over the last few weeks?"

"Uh…" the billionaire pretended to think. "No, but I can imagine. I did send you guys the plans, after all, didn't I?" Stark suddenly looked at Maria suspiciously. "You guys did get the plans, didn't you?"

"Yes, Tony," Maria sighed, "we did get the plans. If we hadn't gotten the plans, then you wouldn't be here right now, would you?"

Stark's whole face brightened. "Great." Stark turned to Ginny. "Now, who is this lovely young lady?"

Ginny held out a hand stiffly. "Ginny Prewett," she said firmly. "I'll introduce myself properly later, but all you need to know for now is that I am this place's official secretary."

Stark shook her hand, analysing her behind his sunglasses. "Ginny…" he mused. "Is that a nickname? Because it sounds like a nickname. I mean, who would name their kid Gi-"

Ginny shot him an icy glare and he stopped talking, his mouth hanging open almost comically.

"I don't know whether that's any of your concern at this point in time, Mr. Stark," she said coolly.

Stark pushed his sunglasses down his nose obnoxiously. "Are you sure that you aren't related to Natasha?" he asked her, perfectly serious. Ginny was sure that it would have been more amusing if she had known who Natasha actually was. The name rang a bell of course, seeing as Maria had kept dropping the names of the Avengers constantly over the past month, but she definitely couldn't picture the woman. Oh well, she thought to herself moodily, cursing her own procrastination and desire to keep the group at arm's length. Her lack of information was her own fault, but it was for her own good. And the good of the Avengers.

"Tony," a feminine voice called out, "don't antagonise her."

Stark held out his hands in a defensive gesture. "I wasn't doing anything," he protested, as a lithe, red headed woman slinked her way up the steps.

"Don't mind him," she said to Ginny, her green eyes piercing, analysing. She met the woman's gaze strongly though, and for a moment, thought that she saw a touch of approval – and surprise? – flash through the woman's eyes. "It's in his nature to be a pain in the ass." Her voice was smooth and low; almost verging on sultry in its tone and Ginny felt slightly uncomfortable in her presence.

She heard warning bells in her head, her fingers beginning to grip the edges of her tablet with a bit more force than she had used before. Natasha reminded Ginny of a person that she had long forced herself to forget.

Ginny simply laughed tightly in response. "Does he get any better over time?"

"To be honest," the woman said, glancing over at the world famous genius, "he gets worse and worse the more you get to know him. I'm Natasha Romanoff, by the way."  
"Ginny Prewett," Ginny replied carefully. So this was the Black Widow that Maria had kept mentioning.

The redhead casually folded her arms and Ginny nearly flinched at the movement. Everything about this woman screamed danger. Every single movement that she made was fluid, graceful, and completely and utterly calculated.

Like a snake, the memory slithered itself into the forefront of her mind and she was reminded of a young man, tall, dark, handsome, smart. Vicious, manipulative, self-consumed…

Ginny was so distracted by the unnerving memory that she missed what the woman, _Natasha_ she corrected to herself, said next.

"Uh, sorry?" Ginny said, losing her composure for a slight second and cursing herself another second later. She had a feeling that Natasha had definitely noticed her little slip up. Someone like her noticed absolutely everything.

"I don't think I've ever seen you around before. You new here?" she repeated.

Ginny nodded blankly, forcing herself to keep her shoulders loose and relaxed. "New to all of this anyway."

"Well, in that case, I hope that we get to see more of each other."

Ginny kept her face blank despite her disconcertion. "As do I. It was nice to meet you."

Natasha dipped her head in response before stealing quietly into the foyer of the building. Ginny watched out of the corner of her eye as Natasha disappeared and held back a shiver from trembling its way down her spine. She hadn't had such a bad vibe from anyone in years. But at the same time, if she was here and if she was an Avenger, then obviously she could be trusted. Ginny swallowed hard as she risked another glance back into the foyer where Natasha was now greeting others and smiling widely. Or rather, she could be trusted to an extent. How far that extent went? Well, Ginny supposed that she would find out in time.

She turned her gaze back down to focus on the cars. There were still a number of people milling around the open doors, laughing and talking. She wished that they would hurry up. She didn't want to be waiting any longer here than she was already forced to.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, one of the men decided to turn and walk up the stairs. Ginny supposed that he was good-looking in a traditional sort of way. Tall, blonde, quite obviously socially awkward seeing as he did his best to avoid any lingering glances at the women in their skin-tight suits. It was kind of amusing yet endearing to watch.

"Agent Hill," he greeted to the dark haired agent before turning to Ginny. He gave her a slightly expectant look before Ginny realised with a start that that was her queue to introduce herself.

"Ginny Prewett," she supplied helpfully and she stuck out her hand again. She vaguely wondered how many times she was going to be doing that today.

"Right," the man smiled at her and Ginny got the feeling that she should actually know the name of this guy. Something about him was extremely familiar.

"Steve Rogers," he said and Ginny gave him a small smile at the name. The famous Captain America. She had heard plenty about him from all of the agents, especially the female ones, in the last couple of weeks. But how much of it was true, she had no idea. She made a mental note to at least read his file. He was kind of iconic after all. Not to mention, he at least seemed more bearable than Tony Stark and much easier to read than the elusive Natasha Romanoff. "So, if I heard you correctly the first time, you're a secretary?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes."

"And you, uh, come from England?" Steve asked somewhat self-consciously as he ran a large hand through his short hair.

Ginny shot him an amused look. "That would be why I have an English accent, Mr Rogers."

He chuckled lightly, his cheeks flushing slightly. Ginny, on the other hand, smirked to herself. This man obviously had no idea how to speak to a woman. It was kind of endearing, actually.

"Of course. It's just that I, uh, I know someone from England and the way that you speak…" he smiled a light, pained smile at her and Ginny wondered exactly who it was whom he was reminded of. "Well, it reminds me of the way that she speaks."

* * *

Pietro stepped out of the car, glad to be out of the fancy, over-expensive metal box that Tony Stark owned. It's not that he minded the car itself. No, the car itself was incredible. Cruise control that people only dreamed about, smooth gear changes, soft, yet firm seats… He had never been in a finer car than the one that he had just driven in.

It was only the owner of the car that Pietro had a problem with.

Tony Stark had been great. Truly. But a couple of weeks spent with him weren't enough to erase the lifetime of hate and grim fury that Pietro had built up. Every single day since his parent's death, Pietro had imagined the different ways that he would kill Tony Stark when he finally met him. Strangulation, a bullet to the head, shoving his head in a sink full of water, waiting until the life drained out of him. But when he finally had laid eyes on the man who had destroyed his childhood, Pietro had realised that he couldn't do it because he hadn't seen a stupid, ignorant, heartless man who had killed his parents. Instead, he had seen a man hiding behind a façade of money and fame, hiding that he was drowning in a sea of guilt. And Pietro had pitied him, more than he had pitied himself. So he let him go.

Pietro sighed and finally allowed himself to focus on his surroundings. He looked around himself, gazing with veiled curiosity at the place that was going to be his new home. Tall pine trees hid the area from prying eyes and there was lush green grass covering the ground. The huge, modern building that had been erected in the middle of the field, however, disturbed the view and Pietro couldn't decide whether it was ugly or sort of beautiful.

Oh well. It could be worse, he thought grimly. It could be a lot worse.

He heard the sound of another car door slamming shut. "You all right, kid?" Clint asked him, giving him an appraising look as he stepped out of a battered looking truck. Clint, apparently, had decided to make his own way to the new facility.

Pietro simply smirked at the archer. "Never better," he said with an arrogant smirk.

Clint shot him a doubtful look. "You in pain?"

Pietro stretched from side to side. He could still feel the muscles pull tightly from where the bullets had punctured him, but other than that, there was not a part of him that ached. It was nice, for once, to have no pain. Pain from his parents, pain from the experiments, pain from the bullets… Never ending pain. Yet today, for some reason, he felt some sort of semblance of peace. He didn't know what had caused it, but he supposed that he had better enjoy it while it lasted.

"No pain," he said honestly.

"He is telling the truth," a soft voice said to Clint and Pietro turned to smile at his sister whom he immediately tucked protectively into his side, ruffling her hair playfully.

"I am not a child to be coddled, Pietro," Wanda said to him fiercely, wriggling out of his grip and glaring at him as she wiped her messy hair out of her face. "So are you coming?"

Pietro glanced briefly up to the entrance of the building.

"You know, they are not as bad as they seem," she said quietly to him, shooting him a knowing, slightly sympathetic look.

Pietro sighed and ran a hand through his hair, hating that his twin could read him so easily. "I still find it hard," he confessed lowly, gesturing to the people standing on the steps. "These people… they were the reason for all of our troubles. Yet, here we are working side by side with them... It is a big change for me."

Wanda rolled her eyes and nudged him teasingly. "Yes, Pietro, I know that it is a big change for you, but we are in this together."

Pietro nodded. "We're in this together." And this time, when he reached for her hand, she just smiled lightly at him and didn't let go.

They walked slowly up to the entrance, taking their time as they took in the scenery that was around them.

"You know," Wanda said thoughtfully, "it is not as bad as I thought it was going to be. At least there are trees."

Pietro shrugged. To him, it was simply going to be a new cage. Yes, it was a pretty cage, but it was a cage all the same. "I suppose."

They reached the bottom of the sleek set of stairs. "You first?" Wanda said, giving him a pointed look.

"I've always been about the ladies going first," he replied impishly, sweeping his arm gallantly in front of her with an exaggerated movement.

Wanda rolled her eyes and started walking up the steps to the first agents who were waiting patiently, their expressions carefully blank. Pietro wondered what it was to be like them. To never show emotion, to always hide and bury the feelings and emotions that were true… He didn't know if he could do that. He was a bad liar – Wanda always found him out – and he had always been quick to temper and quick to act irrationally. He didn't know how these people did it. Maybe they were all robots… From what he had seen of S.H.I.E.L.D. so far, he wouldn't have been surprised if they were.

Pietro reluctantly began to wander up the steps, following his sister. He hadn't thought that there would actually be people waiting to greet them as they arrived, but then and again, he was an Avenger now. Pietro smirked to himself ironically at the thought. He would have done anything to kill them, but now he was one of them and he was, dare he say it, enjoying it.

"Agent Hill," he said formally, grateful at least to recognise someone in the mess of new faces.

"Pietro Maximoff," the brunette replied curtly, her blue eyes assessing him carefully. Pietro got the feeling that the dark haired agent still didn't trust him, so he smoothly moved onto the next person. No need to linger where he wasn't wanted.

But when he stopped in front of the next person, he stopped in his tracks, not expecting the youthful, yet grim face that looked at him with veiled curiosity. It was clear that she was one of the secretarial staff, judging by the fact that she wasn't wearing one of those suits that everyone else was wearing; an elegant, black business dress outlined her slim figure instead.

She stuck out a hand abruptly and Pietro nearly jumped, not expecting the sharp movement. "Ginny Prewett," she said by way of introduction, an unexpected English accent lilting her words.

Pietro grasped her hand firmly. Her brown eyes contrasted with her auburn hair. "Pietro Maximoff, but," he said, sending her a sly grin, "I'm sure that you already knew that. I mean, I haven't given an official interview yet, but the magazines just can't seem to stop talking about me."

She raised an eyebrow at him and Pietro absently noticed how some of her orange strands had escaped the tight bun that she had put her hair in. He was almost tempted to tuck them behind her ear, but decided that he rather liked the look. It made her look less severe and more like a young woman should look.

"And so are you…?"

"I'm the secretary," she said bluntly. "To be more precise, I'm Agent Hill's secretary, but I have lately been instated to be the formal secretary for the Avengers Initiative as well. But I'll explain more about that later when I meet up with you all. Actually, that reminds me…" She glanced at her watch and he saw her eyes widen ever so slightly. "I'm sorry, but it looks like I have to go. It was nice to meet you though, Mr. Maximoff," she said as she gave him a distracted half smile. She turned to Agent Hill. "Maria, I'm leaving."

Agent Hill glanced down at her data pad, glancing briefly at the time and nodded at her. "I expect to see you in an hour in the common room."

Ginny nodded and immediately turned away from Pietro and Maria, her slim figure disappearing with quick steps into the large, white building.

"How long has she been here?" Pietro found himself asking.

"Well, if you're asking about this facility, then only a month. But she's been working as a secretary to Pepper Potts – Tony Stark's girlfriend," she added after seeing Pietro's confused look at the mention of the foreign name, "for quite some time. She came to me highly recommended and so far, she's done nothing to go against that recommendation."

"Is she always so distant?" The question came out of his mouth before Pietro had had the time to think it over and silently cursed his impulsiveness.

Maria, to her credit however, simply arched an eyebrow at the unexpected query before answering slowly, "Yes, she is. Actually – and I can't believe that I'm saying this – but, she's as guarded and as secretive as Nat is and I would bet good money that she's a decent liar as well. And that," Maria said, "is why she's going to be the Avengers Initiative official 'secretary'."

"I thought she said that she was working for you?"

"In a round about way, she is, but the reason that she was hired was to essentially take care of the paperwork and business needs that you bunch of idiots generate. But she'll also be working for me."

Pietro nodded in understanding, tossing the jibe aside. "Well," he said, "I hope that she is the right one for the job." She's so young, he added. Too young. But weren't they all?

"So do I," Maria muttered to herself, tapping at something on the screen her tablet.

* * *

Ginny glanced down at her watch before frowning in annoyance. She was supposed to have been in the 'common room' – as Maria had called it – five minutes ago, yet here she still was, supervising the finishing touches in the various numbers of apartments that had been especially built for the Avengers. Everything had technically been finished already, but yesterday evening, a rather large leak had been discovered in one of the bathrooms and the plumbers that they had had to hire to fix it had made everything a big deal. Honestly, if Ginny heard the word 'Avengers' exit one of the mouths of the plumbers one more time, she was going to scream.

Ginny's tablet buzzed at her and she raised it up in front of her ear with a huff of annoyance. Five minutes late and Maria was already breathing down her neck.

"The plumbers are still here," Ginny said with irritation before Maria could start talking.

"How long until they're finished?"

Ginny scoffed and peered into the bathroom. "They're nearly done. I'll be there in fifteen minutes tops."

"Force them out of they're not done by that time," Maria said curtly before shutting off the connection.

Ginny groaned and rubbed her temple with her spare hand. This was not turning out to be a good day.

"Are you lot nearly done or will I have to throw you all out?" Ginny asked exasperatedly.

"I promise that we're nearly finished," the brown haired one said.

"Well that's funny," Ginny said sarcastically, "seeing as that's what you said half an hour ago. Unfortunately for you, I don't buy your lame excuse. You have two minutes to get out of there."

The blonde one got to his feet from where he had been kneeling on the floor. "Or what?" he said.

"Or I'll kick your ass and shove it to the curb," Ginny said dead panned. "Plus, you'll lose all of your credibility. And yes," she said with a glare as she saw a protest rise on the man's lips, "I can make that happen."

The men scowled at her, but began to start packing away their things.

Ginny, on the other hand, was beginning to stress out about the meeting in the 'common room.' She scowled at the name. Why did Maria have to choose that name? It could have been anything else. It could have been 'meeting room' or anything that did not involve the words 'common' and 'room' put together, but no. She had had to pick 'common room.'

Plus, due to her early disappearance from the stairs earlier, Ginny hadn't officially met the other half of the Avengers, meaning that she was going to be stuck doing awkward introductions for the first half of the meeting. But to her, that was the easy part. The hard part was actually going to be working and effectively communicating with them.

If Ginny were completely honest with herself, then she would probably realise that she was perhaps being a bit irrational about the entire situation. After all, it was only the Avengers Initiative. And it wasn't as if they weren't going to destroy all of the hard work that she had put into staying away from all things supernatural. Besides, she had a perfectly good rule in place; by distancing herself from them, there was no way that they could affect her. But the thing was, was that she wasn't being honest with herself or the situation.

"Hey, lady," the blonde plumber said sullenly to her. "We've finished."

Finally, Ginny thought to herself, as she straightened her posture. "Right. Well then, if you'll follow me out, please?"

She led the three men out of the facility to their van, reminding them firmly on the way, that if they broke their contract, there would be nasty repercussions. After making sure that they had definitely left the facility, Ginny started walking to the dreaded 'common room.'

She tried her best to linger as long as possible, but seeing as she was already late and didn't want to further piss off Maria, she ended up speed walking all the way there. The 'common room' was one of the first things that Ginny had seen when she had first entered the facility all of those weeks ago. Her first thought had been that it was bland. Lifeless. But then and again, she supposed that she had been comparing it to the common room that had been a place of reassurance and safety to her for all of those years.

And when Ginny entered the room for the second time – she had been avoiding the whole place since she had first seen it – she got the same impression that she had done when she had first stepped into the room. Cream walls. Simple furnishings. Boring, non-moving paintings hanging on the walls. Even the array of interesting people that now filled the room did nothing to take away the horrible emptiness.

"Sorry I'm late," Ginny said finally, as she dimly recognised that everyone's attention was focused on her. She fought not to flush. She had always hated being the centre of attention.

"This," Maria said, glancing at her in slight disapproval, "is Ginny Prewett. She's your secretary and by that, I mean that she works for all of you." Maria glared at Stark pointedly. "If you have a problem in your room, you bring it to her, if you need something, you tell her. If you want something doing, if you need to file a report, if you want to ask about salaries or coffee or groceries, then you talk to her. If she decides that something needs my attention, then she will tell me. Questions?" Maria scanned the room and saw that there were none. Even Tony Stark had kept his mouth shut. "Good. Now, seeing as this damned facility needs someone to actually run it, I will leave. Ginny will take over from here."

Ginny sighed inwardly. This had always been a part of the plan, but it didn't mean that she had to like it. First, Maria would introduce herself and then Ginny and then she would take over the rest, like showing them their offices, their apartments, the gym, and the training rooms.

She turned a cool stare over the room, doing her best to push her discomfort aside. "Well, as Agent Hill said, my name is Ginny Prewett and I am your official secretary." The words were bitter in her mouth as the weight of her job suddenly crashed down on her. Why hadn't she resigned? Why hadn't she refused? Why hadn't she just bloody left? Why was she so bloody stupid? She took a deep breath. "All of the small stuff and maybe even some of the big stuff, you can take to me and I'll take care of it. Otherwise, see Agent Hill. So," she said, deciding to settle for a light, fake smile, "who's ready for the tour?"

* * *

 **Hey readers!**

 **First up, happy New Year! I wish you all a good year! Any interesting resolutions? I for one, don't really have any, except to pass my IB and get into my university of choice, but that's more of a goal. Not a resolution.  
Second up, I can't believe that response that I have had to this story. You're all amazing, so thank you for all of the favourites, follows, and the reviews.  
Anyway, so I hope that you enjoyed the second chapter, and if you have anything you want to say or complain about it, then write me a PM or something and we shall discuss further.**

 **To the guest reviewer 'very good', I'm really glad you like the story so far, and thanks for your feedback! Also, Gelassenheit is the German translation for 'serenity'. Seeing as I am also German, I decided to use my German skills to name the story.**

 **Have a great week!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	3. Chapter 3

"There comes a point in your life when you need to stop writing other people's books and start writing your own."

 _Albert Einstein_

* * *

Ginny padded down the hallway, yawning widely as she slowly made her way towards her room. Her hair was now dishevelled and messy, her eyes stung with a tiredness that she hadn't felt in years, and her hands held the dreaded heels. Merlin, the last couple of days had been rubbish.

First, there had been the arrival of the Avengers, and then that tour – which had been so awkward that Ginny never wanted to remember it – and then there had been the extra work that seemed to keep coming out of nowhere... She had been chasing people down from one end of the facility to the other all day yesterday and today, asking for reports and other official documents that still needed to be digitalised and filed. She scowled to herself. While it hadn't necessarily been hard work, it had definitely been time-consuming. _Very_ time consuming. So time consuming in fact, that she'd barely had any time to actually see to the group that she had met only days ago and was supposed to be working closely with.

But then and again, she couldn't bring herself to care too much, because in all honesty, she had been trying to avoid the Avengers as much as possible. It wasn't that they were bad people, she told herself, it was just that they came very close to overstepping the line that she had so carefully crafted for herself all of those years ago. But, she supposed, if she cared so much about them overstepping her mental boundaries, then why was she still here? She withheld a groan as she stomped closer to her apartment, not wanting to deal with the conflicting thoughts.

"Miss Prewett?" The accented voice was quiet in the otherwise empty hallway and Ginny nearly squeaked embarrassingly as she whipped around to face Wanda Maximoff. "Sorry," she apologised, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Ginny smiled a forced smile at the small, Sokovian brunette. "It's no problem and you can call me Ginny, you know. I'm not going to bite. Promise." She paused expectantly. "What can I do for you?"

Wanda shifted uncomfortably, her hand brushing through her hair uneasily. "It's about the interview for tomorrow?"

Understanding dawned in Ginny's eyes. The interview. She had expected that Wanda might approach her about that when she had spoken to the two twins earlier.

"You are not surprised?" Wanda asked curiously. "You knew that I would talk to you about the interview?"

Ginny heaved a sigh, suddenly feeling a lot older than she really was. When she had told the twins about the interview yesterday, she had noticed Wanda's hesitance at the request. While she had still agreed, Ginny had had the feeling that she would end up cancelling.

"I noticed that you were uncomfortable about the whole idea yesterday," Ginny said eventually and Wanda flushed in evident embarrassment. "It's okay if you don't want to do it, you know," she backtracked quickly. "I can ring the station in the morning. They'll understand." And if they don't, she added to herself, then I'll make them.

She knew a little bit of what being hounded by press was like. After the war, Ginny had been pestered for interviews. The Daily Prophet, other wizarding magazines and newspapers… In fact, she still remembered their ugly, brutal questions, the morning after she walked out of St. Mungo's. She had still been in shock from the whole ordeal, the memories of their lifeless faces still too fresh in her mind, but hadn't stopped them. Not in the slightest. _"What are you going to do now?" "Will you finish your schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" "You are being hailed one of the most powerful young witches of your generation after your impressive duel during the Final Battle. What is your response?" "Harry Potter was the first man you ever loved. Do you think that you're ever going to be able to get over him?"_ She swallowed hard at the memories of it. She had punched Rita Skeeter in the face for that one.

"Would that be okay?" Wanda asked, her face showing her relief at the prospect.

Ginny nodded, shaking off the lingering effects of the memory. "Absolutely. Is your brother still doing it?"

"Yes. He still wants to do it, but, uh," she waved a careless hand through the air, "I am not really that surprised. Pietro always did love attention."

Ginny allowed a small smile to touch her lips. "He does seem like the type, doesn't he?"

Wanda rolled her eyes. "Oh, he is. Believe me. When he was younger, he wanted to be an actor. Not because he liked acting, but because he wanted to be famous."

Ginny chuckled, surprising herself with the sudden sound. "One of my brothers was the same. The only difference is, is that he didn't care who he hurt in the process to get to his goal. Your brother, though?" she considered quietly. Despite her intentional and petty avoidance from the Avengers, even Ginny hadn't been immune to the looks of complete and utter caring and devotion that the two siblings constantly sent each other. It made a part of her ache whenever she saw those stares. "I can't imagine him doing that. Doing anything to hurt you, I mean."

"You have a brother?" Wanda asked, sounding intrigued.

"Yes. In fact I have," Ginny faltered, the number 'six' about to slide off of her tongue "I, uh, five," she said softly, feeling a lump grow in her throat. "I have five brothers."

"Five?" Wanda's eyes opened comically. "I cannot stand having one brother let alone five," she joked. "Are you the oldest?"

Ginny smiled listlessly. She no longer wanted to talk about this. "I'm the youngest," she admitted stiffly.

Wanda nodded slowly. "Do you still keep in contact with them?"

"To an extent," Ginny said shortly. It wasn't technically a lie.

An awkward silence fell between the two women, neither sure as to what to say next.

"So, do you like it here?" Ginny asked, surprising herself with the sudden question. "It took me a while to adjust."

"It is nice," Wanda answered finally, accepting the rapid change in subject. "It is much better than what I have lived in for the last few years, at any rate." She hesitated slightly. "Anyway, I am going to the common room. The others are holding…" she screwed up her face ever so slightly as she fought to remember the exact words that Tony had used, "a game night? Do you want to come?"

Ginny didn't miss the note of hope in her voice.

"Oh, um. I, uh, I have to work," she said, the lie coming to her lips easily, ignoring the brief but expected disappointment that flashed across Wanda's face. "You know," she rambled, "filing and all of that to do, but I'll see you tomorrow no doubt. And don't worry about the interview. I'll take care of it."

Wanda smiled a small smile. "Thank you."

"No worries. I'll see you sometime tomorrow then."

She turned around to face her door once again and reached for her ID card, already pushing Wanda out of her mind. She was here to work, she told herself fiercely. Not to make friends.

The door gave a loud, satisfying beep as she tapped the plastic object against the scanner and she entered her small apartment. The apartment itself was nice. It was simple. Simple colours, simple furniture, simple appliances… In other words, it was just the way Ginny liked.

A long time ago, she had liked the loud colours, the posters on the walls, the clothes scattered around the bedroom floor, but now… Well, those things just reminded her of what she had lost when she had lost her brother, her mother, Harry... She looked at the ground bitterly. It just reminded her of when she had lost everything.

Sighing, she tossed her heels in a corner, not really caring where they landed, and walked towards her small kitchenette, looking forward to a cup of green tea. The drink had always soothed her when she had been stressed and it hadn't ever failed. She filled the kettle up with tap water and set it back on its stand, flicking the switch. She leaned comfortably against the bench as she waited for the water to boil, her gaze flying around the room before landing on the small coffee table where a huge stack of files had been placed. It was the reading that she had yet to do on the Avengers.

Ginny glared at the documents. After the tour the other day and her recent conversation with Wanda, it had become ridiculously clear to her how much she didn't know about the people that she was being forced to work with. She wasn't sure whether any of the group had recognised her incompetence, seeing as she had done her best to keep a perfectly blank face, but it was still a problem that urgently needed fixing. She supposed that she could get through it all if she pulled an all-nighter, but she had already had only a couple of hours sleep over the past few days and if she skipped out on more, then she had a feeling that she would spontaneously collapse, which would not only be incredibly embarrassing, but also highly unprofessional.

She rubbed her forehead. To procrastinate or not to procrastinate, she thought wryly to herself as she turned back to face the bench, grabbing a mug and her pot of green tea leaves out of the cupboard. And then there was the whole issue of Charlie's letter as well, which Ginny still had no idea what to do about.

What was she supposed to write to someone – her brother of all people – whom she had neither seen nor spoken to in the last three years? Because, for some reason, she didn't think that a 'hello' and an 'I'm sorry' would cut it.

The kettle whistled loudly and she slowly poured the hot water into her prepared cup. Thank God for tea. She carefully picked up the mug and half-heartedly walked over to the coffee table, all the while staring at the lump of files in distaste. She placed her cup on the table and reluctantly picked up the first folder.

 _Captain Steve Rogers_

The slightly awkward but endearing man that she had met came to mind and she smirked lightly as she remembered his awkward pauses and hesitant stares. She turned her eyes back down to the page.

 _Captain Steve Grant Rogers, born 4_ _th_ _July, 1918…_

From the first line, Ginny was hooked on his captivating story for at least the next hour and for some reason, his story of bravery and heroism sounded ridiculously similar. A man, young, brave, and ridiculously courageous, had signed up to be in a war that was so much bigger than himself, yet he had shouldered the the heavy burden. He had become a symbol of peace, hope, and patriotism all throughout America and to this day, that symbolism had yet to die. Yes, she decided. Steve Roger's story really was very similar to the story of a man whom she had known and cared for very well and without her allowing it, a flash of achingly familiar leapt through her mind.

Admittedly, although she had heard the very bare basics about the Man out of Time, most of the information was new and foreign to her and she hadn't realized that the man who had stood in front of her only hours earlier had suffered through so much pain, and it wasn't just heartache that he was suffering from. Ginny knew what it was like to wake from a dream and find the world around you in horrifying and brutal ruins. She knew what it was like to lose. But this man, well he had lost everything in a different way. He had been forced to live in a world that was just as foreign to him as it was to her.

Perhaps these Avengers weren't so different from her...

A loud knocking at the door made Ginny jump violently and she sprang to her feet, heart thumping as a sudden impulse of adrenaline pushed its way through her veins. Beside her, her tea mug spontaneously shattered into a million tiny pieces, shards of porcelain flying across the room and clattering to the floor.

"Bloody hell!" she swore loudly, as the hot liquid spilled itself all over the couch, splinters of the mug littering the floor.

She hated this. She hated that, after all this time, she still got edgy when something unexpected happened. She hated that when she got stressed, that she had no control over her magic. But that, she supposed scornfully, was to be expected. After not having used magic in so long, she had almost been expecting the accidental magic. In fact, it was beginning to come out in short bursts, just like when she had been a kid, uncontrollable and unpredictable. Over the past few weeks – without the regular trips to gym – it had been getting especially bad. When she lost control, something around her, normally it was just something small, would explode. Of course, the solution to this was just to simply perform a little magic, but Ginny refused to pick up her wand.

She looked down at the remains of the cup and then at the door helplessly and eventually decided to answer the door. The mug could wait. The person at the door could not. So she smoothed down her dress, pushed her hair back from her face, and walked slowly to the door, trying to calm herself down.

"Hi," the red headed woman – the dangerous one – greeted her.

"Hello," Ginny said, attempting to sound composed.

"We were just wondering if you wanted to come out for a drink with us?"

For a second, Ginny stood stupefied in the doorway. A drink? God, she hadn't gone out for drinks with anyone since… Since, well, before the war. Merlin, that was ridiculously sad.

"No thanks. I have to do some reading for tomorrow," Ginny said eventually.

Natasha nodded with understanding, but there was something deeper in her eyes that Ginny couldn't identify.

"Maria's a real slave driver," Natasha replied finally, a smirk sitting on her lips.

Ginny smiled weakly, wishing desperately that Natasha would leave. "She is. But thanks for the invitation though. Maybe next time?" Ginny though, despite her sad as hell social life, knew that there would be no next time. There was never going to be a next time, not if she didn't want to get involved.

The redhead nodded. "Sure. See you tomorrow then." She turned away from the door. "Oh, and if you want to join us, then feel free," she called out, as she walked, hips swaying down the corridor.

Ginny shut the door as soon as Natasha rounded the corner and sank to her feet against it, her face buried in her hands. She didn't even want to look at the mess that now covered her living room floor. Looking at it meant that her magic was real. It meant that it was still there, still an inescapable part of her life. And Ginny loathed it.

She allowed herself to wallow in self-pity for a small moment before she slowly got to her feet and walked over to the kitchen, looking for a dustpan under the sink. She couldn't let this keep happening. It was stupid, irresponsible and childish. Even long witches and wizards had better self-control than she currently had and that was, quite frankly, rather embarrassing. Not to mention, she was down to her last mug already and if she went to ask for more, then they would wonder what had happened to the other ones and it wasn't like she could just say that they had all spontaneously self-destructed.

She knelt down next to the fragments on the floor and started to absently sweep up the little pieces. _This would go much faster if you used magic, you know_ , a little voice taunted her. _You're a bloody witch, you idiot, yet here you are, sweeping away glass like a Muggle. Are you a Muggle, Ginny Weasley, because you're sure as hell acting like one._

Ginny frowned to herself, her grip tightening around the handle of the brush. She started cleaning more vigorously than she had done before, determined to beat that little voice of reason deep into her mind. But she couldn't deny that there was a traitorous part of her that agreed with the little voice.

Why shouldn't she use it magic? She was a witch, after all. She had literally been moulded to use and perform magic and had even gone to a magic school where she had learned to control her magic, for crying out loud! Besides, if she didn't start using small amounts of magic again soon, then the little incidents of accidental magic would become big incidents. You see, Ginny was not one of those people that made little flowers bloom or caused little sparkles to burst in the air like pretty little fireworks. Instead, she blew things up. Most of the time, the things that were destroyed were cups or vases or mirrors, things that were small and not really of much consequence, but here, even something small like that would ruin her.

She supposed that she _had_ destroyed a series of windows when she was five because Fred and George had stolen her favourite doll, but that had been a one off and Ginny was sure that she was old enough and well trained enough to stop anything like that from happening again. But still, she thought grimly, if anything happened while she was with anyone else, or Merlin forbid, the Avengers themselves, then everything would be compromised.

She couldn't allow that to happen.

But at the same time, she had given magic up for a reason. She had given it up so that every time she shot a spell out of her wand, she wouldn't see the spells from the war blind her eyes. She had given it up so that she wouldn't hear the words of the defensive magic deafen her ears. She had given it up so that she wouldn't remember the screams of the dead, the lifeless eyes of Fred, the cold skin of her mother.

She knew that it was stupid.

Those memories would, after all, be with her for her entire life, and performing or not performing magic was not going to change that. But the thing was, was that not performing magic made her feel better. It made her feel like she was getting over her losses, even though she knew all too well how much she was hiding from them.

Ginny slowly got to her feet, ignoring the fragments that had pierced the skin of her legs and feet and walked robotically over to the bin. No. There was no way that she was doing magic. People could call her weak, people could call her pathetic because God knows she deserved it, but she was not going to pick up her wand.

Or rather, she wasn't going to pick up her wand _yet._

So, until she decided to use magic, then yes. She damn well was going to act like a Muggle. She dumped the porcelain into the rubbish and placed the dustpan away. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of peace before striding over to the coffee table and selecting the next file to read.

* * *

Ginny got up for several more cups of tea and the occasional coffee as she made her way through the mountain of folders. She didn't read everything, but she read enough for her to at least know and somewhat understand the members of the Avengers Initiative.

She had found Tony Stark's story pretty average. Or at least, his story had been pretty average compared to some of the others. Vision, whom she had yet to officially meet, had the least amount of information in his file, but his coming about had been interesting to read just the same and she had vaguely wondered what the wizarding world would have to say about Vision when they found out about him. They would probably freak out and bluster around the place, as they were so well known for constantly doing. They'd probably call it a magical experiment gone wrong or something as equally as ridiculous, she thought to herself. After all, if there was one thing that wizards were very good at, it was ignoring information and ideas that could be rationally explained and this seemed like the exact type of thing that would cause wizards and witches all over the world to freak out.

Thor had been the most light hearted to read about, with the contents in his folder focusing mainly on the events that had happened in New Mexico all of those years ago, and she reluctantly decided that perhaps she would like to meet him when he came back from Asgard. Perhaps. Sam's, on the other hand, had struck a chord within her and she realised that perhaps her and the cheerful dark skinned man weren't really so different after all. She made a mental note to at least talk to him sometime in the near future. He seemed like the type to understand something without even trying to.

Bruce's file had made her grimly realise what desperation and desire would do to a man, and within the plain text, she found similar parallels that she had done with Steve. Why did these people, these Avengers, keep causing her to create connections to people in her own world? She thought that there was something horribly unfair about that. Clint's story had been both filled with despair, yet a beautiful kind of hope that she found that she could almost instantly connect with. His past had been dark, murky, and questionable, but to her, that didn't really matter. He was here now, and if what the file said about him was correct, then he was doing very well.

They were all so different, yet they were all so frighteningly similar.

Natasha's though, by far, had been the darkest and most mysterious of them all. Ginny had skimmed through most of the file's contents, only gathering the information that she needed to know, like date of birth and basic history, but even that hadn't hidden the brutal truth written between the lines. Murders, assassinations, names…

Ginny swallowed hard and shut the folder, as she grimly realised that everything that she had sensed about the woman had been accurate. But Natasha wouldn't be here now, she told herself firmly, if she hadn't switched sides. And besides, it wasn't as if she herself hadn't killed people. In fact, in the war, she had killed more people than she was willing to admit, but for her, it had been a matter of survival. Pure human instinct. What she saw in Natasha's file though, was something else entirely, a darkness to the human character.

She leaned back into the couch and glanced briefly at the clock. It was past two in the morning now and she still had to eat – although she figured that that could probably wait until breakfast now – shower, and then try and get some sleep.

She looked at the last two folders that stared tantalisingly at her from the spot on the coffee table. She hadn't planned on doing the reading tonight. In fact, she had planned on never doing the reading that Maria had given her, and had originally wanted to spend the night trying to have a good night's sleep. But plan's changed and her curiosity had gotten the better of her. Plus, she didn't want to look stupid in front of the 'team', because even though she didn't have to like these people and they didn't have to like her, and even if she did go to crazy lengths to avoid them all, she did want their respect.

Ginny withheld a yawn. Sleep or files. Sleep or files. She weighed the two options in her head. Sleep would mean that she would probably be able to function in the morning, but the files probably wouldn't take too much of her time to read. But then and again, the files weren't really going anywhere either. She reached for the next folder in the now small stack.

 _Wanda Maximoff_

 _Date of Birth: 15.11.1993 –_

 _Nationality: Sokovian_

 _Biological Father: Andrei Maximoff. 27.06.1963 – 30.01.2004_

 _Biological Mother: Katya Maximoff. 13.04.1965 – 30.01.2004_

 _Brother: Pietro Maximoff. 15.11.1993 –_

She looked up from the sheet of paper thoughtfully. Besides the earlier encounter, she hadn't really had many meetings with the brunette. As for her brother… Well. Even though she hadn't spoken to him since the day that she first met him, how on earth could she forget his white hair, quick words, and smirking face? Ginny rolled her eyes and turned her tired gaze back down to the page.

 _Also known as Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximoff is a telekinetic as a result of the experiments conducted on both her and her brother by a Mr. Wolfgang von Strucker (See File 2983). It is clear that both Miss and Mr. Maximoff volunteered for the experiments due to social and political pressures in Sokovia. Although there were dozens of volunteers for the experiments in Sokovia, only Miss and Mr. Maximoff have been reported to have survived the ordeal._

 _While Miss Maximoff claims that she does not know the full extent of her abilities, the following have been able to be identified by witnesses and by herself:_

 _\- Telekinesis_

 _\- Hypnosis_

 _\- Energy projection_

 _It has also been stated by Miss Maximoff herself that she is able to enter and influence the thoughts of others._

Ginny froze. _Enter and influence the thoughts of others_. For a moment, her thoughts were a mess. How was that possible? How did she do it? What did this mean? Could she enter Ginny's own thoughts as well? The realisation made Ginny suck in a sharp breath, because if Wanda did and could in fact enter her thoughts, then everything was over. All of the work that she had done would be for nothing. Ginny shakily got to her feet, not noticing the file as it dropped to the floor, its contents scattering themselves at her feet.

What the hell was she supposed to do? Had Wanda already looked through her own mind? She supposed that she wouldn't know if she had. She had never been taught occlumency, despite the pressure to do so when she had been at Hogwarts still.

She started pacing barefoot around the apartment. She supposed that she could confront Wanda, but that would lead to suspicion. But, then and again, she could also let the whole matter go. Yes, maybe that was safest, she thought to herself. It wouldn't involve suspicion or magic and no one would ever find out anything unless Wanda forcefully entered her mind. But if that happened, then Ginny knew a few tricks – magic-less tricks that Harry and the few people in the DA had taught her – that would stop her. Like punching her in the face, for example.

Ginny nodded imperceptibly to herself. She would act if she needed to, but otherwise, acting now would be stupid and rash. With the problem solved for the moment, she went back to sit on the couch, but this time, instead of sinking into the stories like she had done before, her mind wouldn't concentrate on the words. She let out a groan of frustration.

God, she had to go to bed. She needed to sleep.

* * *

 **Hello people!  
Here's the next chapter. I hope that you all enjoyed it :) **

**Also, thank you for all of the new follows, favourites, and reviews! They literally make my day and I love seeing them crop up in my inbox. You're all rockstars!**

 **And to the two guests who reviewed on chapter 2: Thanks for your reviews! They were super awesome and I hope that you keep enjoying the story!  
**

 **Anyway, have a great week everyone and I'll post again next Sunday!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	4. Chapter 4

Spare me the self-righteous indignation.

I highly doubt your motives are selfless.

 _Jaye Wells_

* * *

Ginny gasped awake before her alarm even had the chance to go off the next morning. She was panting and her skin shone with a sheen of sweat. She couldn't remember what she had just dreamed about, but it had been something unpleasant. She rubbed her eyes and looked towards the blinking, digital clock that hung on the wall.

 _5:16_

Ginny flopped an arm over her eyes. Great. It was still a touch too early to get up, but her alarm would be going off in the next half an hour anyway. She sighed and rolled over, deciding to get up and get dressed – she had enough work to do anyway – and promptly landed on the floor with a painful thud, her head cracking loudly against the edge of the coffee table. For a moment, Ginny lay stunned on the ground as she waited for the stars to disappear from her vision. What in the hell had just happened? Why on earth was she on the floor?

The answer came to her just as quickly. "You idiot," she muttered to herself as she staggered to her feet, her surroundings tilting slightly. She had fallen asleep on the couch. Again.

Damn.

Ginny looked woozily down at her wrinkled clothes from yesterday as she blearily made her way into her bedroom to collect some new, presentable, and _ironed_ articles of clothing before padding into the small bathroom. Honestly, she needed to do something about her sleeping habits. This was what, the fifth time that she had fallen asleep on the couch? She didn't know. She no longer kept count after the second time that it had happened. She sighed irritably to herself and shrugged herself out of her old clothing and stepped under the shower, deliberately turning the knob to cold.

The icy water, although initially unpleasant, felt good on her flushed skin and the coldness of it pulled her out of the daze that she had fallen into. She shouldn't have tried to read all of those bloody files. Now she was gong to start the day being incredibly sleep deprived due to her idiocy and stressed because of the situation that had arisen with Wanda Maximoff. But like she had concluded early this morning, she was just simply going to do nothing. If she did anything, then it would only arouse suspicion and the last thing that Ginny needed right now was to be scrutinized by a bunch of superheroes. She grumpily got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body. Merlin, she should've gone to sleep earlier.

Hell, just last night she had been telling herself how she needed to work on her control of her accidental magic. Well, stress and lack of sleep were really going to help that self-control, she thought sarcastically to herself, as she irritably pulled on the plain white sleeveless blouse and black pencil skirt that she had grabbed from her closet earlier.

After brushing her hair into her signature high bun and applying a light coat of mascara, Ginny decided to leave her room and simply have breakfast in the cafeteria. Normally, she would cook in her apartment, not bothered to go to the cafeteria seeing as she was pretty sure that even she could cook better than the cooks could. But whatever. At least they did good pancakes. They weren't as good as what her mum used to cook, but they were okay. It was a shame that they didn't come with whipped cream though. Stupid agents and their stupid diets.

She walked through the hallways and eventually turned into the large cafeteria, her nose immediately assaulted with the distinct oily aroma of scrambled eggs, toast, and the delicious smell of pancakes, and for a brief moment, she felt the strong pull of déjà vu. Images of a hall with floating candles, ghosts, and a ceiling reflecting the night sky filled her mind's eye. She heard the light chatter fill the hall, the clank of cutlery as food was scraped eagerly from the plates, piled high with an array of delicacies. She heard the laughing of her friends as Harry turned to face her, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips as he ran a sheepish hand through his black hair. Hermione was sitting next to him, glaring at Ron who was wolfing down his breakfast with disgusting, comical gusto.

Ginny only became aware that she had stopped walking in the middle of the entrance to the cafeteria when a warm body bumped into her own.

"Sorry," the figure apologised immediately.

Ginny shook her head absently, the remains of the memory lingering in her mind. "It's fine," she murmured. She wasn't sure as to whether or not she should grateful to the person for disturbing or annoyed that whoever it was had destroyed the perfect, beautiful illusion that the memory had given her.

"Are you okay?" The voice sounded hesitant and was covered with a thick Eastern European accent.

"I'm fine," she repeated, turning to face the silver haired man from yesterday. What was his name again? Pavlo? Peter? She hadn't managed to get to his file last night, but he was definitely the brother of Wanda in any case. "I'm sorry for stopping in the middle of the entrance." She smiled tightly. "But, uh, I'll be leaving now anyway. It was nice to see you again."

And without waiting for a reply, she turned out of the cafeteria. There was no way that she could eat in there. Not after what she had just seen.

God, she needed to punch something.

* * *

"I know that she's closed off," Maria said with some irritation, "but I can assure you that she's perfectly trustworthy. She's worked for Pepper for the last couple of years and Pepper never had any problems. And from what I've seen of her, she's efficient and hardworking."

"But you have to agree that there's something 'off' about her," Natasha said bluntly.

Maria sighed. Ever since she had first laid eyes on the redheaded secretary, she had immediately suspected that she was hiding something. Ginny Prewett kept her face carefully blank nearly all the time, kept to herself, did only what was asked of her, and nearly every word that came out of her mouth seemed measured and controlled… To be honest, Maria had first suspected that the girl was an enemy agent, another threat hidden in their ranks, but it had slowly become evident to her over the last four weeks, that the secretary had no idea how to handle a gun. She hadn't even entered the gym once and the apartment rooms were much to small to practice any sort of real combat training. But then and again, that could be a part of her entire act… "Yes," Maria said somewhat reluctantly, "I agree that there is something 'off' about her, but her record is completely clean. I've had my best analysts look for anything that may have been cleared or erased, but they came up blank. I even have a monitor in the tech lab that's dedicated to her, but she's done nothing to suggest that she's unreliable."

"Have you bugged her apartment?"

Maria shook her head. "No," she said shortly. "I haven't seen a need to do so." She stood up from her desk. It was too early in the morning to be speaking about the elusive secretary. "But if something comes up, then that's the first thing that I'll be doing."

"Have you thought about giving her 'defence lessons'? Then we would really be able to see whether or not she's competent."

Maria arched an eyebrow. "You'd be willing to do something like that?"

Natasha smirked. "I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't willing to do the actual work. And have you talked to Wanda? If anyone's capable of getting into her head, it's Wanda."

But Maria was already shaking her head. "That's off the cards."

"For now," Natasha said carefully, before turning around and slinking out of Maria's office. "That option is off the cards for now."

* * *

"I'm sure that you're able to understand her decision, Ms. Emming. It has, after all, only been several weeks since the Sokovian mission," Ginny was saying sweetly into the receiver. Merlin, she hated this ignorant woman. "And her brother could have died."

"But he's still doing the interview, isn't he, Miss Prewett?" the woman replied imperiously. "And he's the one that could have died." Ms. Emming snorted pretentiously over the phone line. "The deal was that both of them would do it. Not just one of them, so unfortunately, I'm going to have to cancel. The public don't want just one of them."

Ginny paused deliberately. "So let me get this straight, Ms. Emming," she said slowly. "You want to cancel an interview with one of the most sought after superheroes since Sokovia, simply because his sister – who just went through a traumatic experience, I might add – doesn't want to be a part of your ridiculous interview?"

There was silence on the other end of the line and Ginny smirked quietly to herself. Being Pepper's secretary had taught her a thing or two about manipulation when it came to heinous bitches like Ms. Emming.

"But that's okay, Ms. Emming," she continued. "I understand that these things can be difficult for businesswomen such as yourself. After all, it would be a shame to ruin your sterling reputation, especially seeing as your station just won that award." Ginny paused for a second, letting her veiled threat sink in. "It was a pleasure talk-"

"Wait a second, Miss Prewett," the woman replied grudgingly. "I've… reconsidered. We'll conduct the interview as planned. As you say, the experience for Miss Maximoff must have been… very distressing and I wouldn't want to cause any unnecessary complications or distress."

Ginny grinned to herself triumphantly. "Oh, I'm so glad that you've reconsidered, Ms. Emming," she said brightly. "It would have been such a shame to not have the interview go as planned."

"Indeed it would have been," Ms. Emming answered curtly. "Good day to you and I shall see you later at the prescribed time."

Ms. Emming hung up, leaving Ginny to slap her phone tiredly on the desk.

Thank God that that was over.

"That was impressive, I have to say," a voice from the corner of the room said. "Manipulation is clearly one of your fortes. Pepper would be so proud."

Ginny rolled her eyes at the newcomer, swallowing back the ring of truth that came with his words. "It was nothing," she said clearly, getting up from her office chair. "Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Stark?"

He smirked at her as he stepped into the office, absently picking up a small vase that lay on her desk. "I just wanted to make sure that you personally received an invitation to the party tonight. Plus, I just wanted to make sure that you actually exist. You know, for _our_ secretary, you're pretty hard to track down."

Ginny ignored the jibe and focused on his previous words. The party, something that she very much wanted to avoid at all costs. She had heard all about Tony Stark's infamous parties and so it was safe to say that there was no way that she was going to be a part of it. Alcohol, fancy dress, loud music, tons of people whom she didn't know… Nope. There was no way that she was going to go to something like that.

He placed the vase back down on the desk, giving her a look of extreme disapproval. "You are coming, right? No actually, scratch that. You're definitely coming even if I have to drag you."

"Well, unfortunately, I'm not coming," Ginny said distractedly, looking at her schedule. Maybe if she ignored him, he would magically go away?

"Aw, come on," Stark whined. "It'll be fun. Besides, we don't know you. You don't know us. It would be a good opportunity to break the ice. Plus, you're young. You young people like this sort of stuff."

Ginny withheld a sigh. "Well, Mr. Stark, I hate to break it to you, but I'm not like most young people. In fact, if I don't leave this office right now, then I'm going to be late."

Stark pouted and Ginny arched an eyebrow at him in response. How did Pepper deal with this man again?

"Late for what?"

"Maximoff's interview," she replied shortly, picking up a stack of paperwork that needed to be digitalised from her desk. "I'm a secretary for all of you, remember? And that includes things like taking care of interviews and organising press conferences. So like I said, unless I want to further piss off Jasmine Emming, which I really don't want to do, then I have to go. So sorry. And I'm not coming to the party."

She stalked out of the office, scowling to herself as she glanced at her watch. Maximoff had better be there or he would be in big trouble.

"There'll be alcohol," Stark said obnoxiously from behind her as she paced down the busy corridor. "I mean, what are you? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? You can drink right?"

"Wrong on both accounts and besides. I don't drink."

"Don't tell me you're under twenty-two? Twenty-one? Come on, Red! Give me a number."

"No. And don't call me 'Red'."

Stark sighed exaggeratedly. "Fine. There'll be awesome food."

"I can make my own 'awesome food', thank you very much."

They rounded a corner.

"Incredible music."

"Don't care."

"People. Including the Avengers. You know, the people that you're supposed to work with."

Ginny stopped in her tracks and turned around to face him, a spark of irritation prickling down her spine. "Are you calling me incompetent, Mr. Stark?"

Stark held his hands up in a peace gesture. "Not at all. Not at all. But correct me if I'm wrong," he said slowly, "isn't a part of your job, you know, supposed to be getting to know us so that way you can work with us effectively? I mean, since you've been here, you haven't even tried talking to us. Any of us, for that fact."

Ginny glared at him. "Have you thought that that might be because I actually have work to do? You know, filing, organising… All of that stuff that makes this place actually function? And my job isn't to socialise, Mr. Stark. I'm employed to work. Not to party and especially not to socialise. So if you'll excuse me," she said lowly, holding her paperwork closer to her chest, "I have places to be."

* * *

Tony was sure that her eyes were a brighter shade of brown when she finally turned around and left him standing in the hectic corridor. In fact, he could have sworn that the air around him had crackled threateningly… But he told himself to ignore it simply because the idea of it was simply impossible. No one's eyes and hair could automatically become brighter based on what emotions they were feeling and there was no way that a perfectly normal secretary would be able to cause static currents to run through the air.

Screw it. How could he ignore something like that? He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, switching it on absently.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., I want you to find out everything that you can on our lovely new secretary."

"Search parameters, sir?" his A.I.'s cool and polished voice replied.

"Don't want any," he said grimly. "If there's something out there, then I want to know about it. No matter how deep it's buried. Let me know when you've compiled a database."

"Yes, sir."

Tony placed his phone back in his pocket and started walking in the opposite direction to the redheaded secretary. He wondered what he would find and wondered whether or not she really was hiding some kind of dark, evil secret.

* * *

 **Hey everyone!**

 **First up, short chapter, this week, so sorry about that, but at least next chapter will be lots of Ginny/Pietro! Actually, do any of you guys have a shipping name that would suit those two?  
Secondly, thanks for all of the new favourites, follows, and reviews! You're all amazing and I'm super glad that you're all enjoying this story.**

 **And to the anonymous Guest: I'm really glad that you're enjoying the story so far and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter too :)**

 **Also, thanks for all of the good luck wishes on my applications! Hopefully everything will turn out really well!  
And as is the usual drill, if you want to complain about anything or find any mistakes or have any good ideas regarding this story or future stories, then I would be happy to hear them!  
**

 **And question of the week (it was super cool finding out where some of you guys are from, from last week's questions!): What's your favourite Avengers character and why?**

 **Mine would probably have to be Wanda, because even though she's had a shitty childhood, she's powerful in ways that she doesn't realise.**

 **Anyway, have a great week and until next Sunday!**

 **HauntedCinders**

 **P.S. I just finished chapter 8 and have made a rather large dent on Chapter 9 and things are beginning to get interesting :P**


	5. Chapter 5

"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."

 _Oscar Wilde_

* * *

Pietro stood out on the steps in front of the facility, fiddling with the collar on his light blue, button down shirt. The feeling of the stiff fabric was scratchy and unfamiliar against his skin and Pietro fought the urge to just rip the horrible thing off and walk into the studio shirtless. He smirked lightly to himself as he imagined what the faces of the various employees would look like if he did that; the women wouldn't be able to keep their eyes off of him, something that Pietro decided that he wouldn't mind at all. The only problem with doing something like that, would be that he would then be in deep shit with the Avengers and their PR team. He could imagine their disapproval already.

" _Pietro, are you trying to dig this team deeper into the ground than they already are_?" they would say. " _Pietro, don't you ever think before you act_?"

He sighed irritably. Fuck this stupid interview. To be honest, when Wanda had told him that she had decided to not do the interview, Pietro had been relieved that he would have the excuse to no longer go through it. But then Wanda had persuaded – no, perhaps 'bullied' was the correct term – him into doing it anyway. Oh well. It wasn't like he could say no to her anyway, with or without telekinetic powers.

He smiled a small smile at the mental image if his sister. Ever since they had been here, she seemed so much happier. She smiled more, made bad jokes that he hadn't heard in over fifteen years, socialised willingly with others… He would never be able to repay the Avengers for that. Not now. Not ever. That was actually the reason why he had accepted the stupid request for an interview in the first place; he was trying to pay off the beginnings of an infinite debt that he owed.

He knew that after Sokovia, the Avengers were in a bad place socially. The newspapers were slandering them, calling them terrorists, calling for their arrests… Of course, not every newspaper was doing that, but a lot of them had taken the 'threat' angle. Pietro himself had only read a few of the articles before he had tossed them out angrily. And then there was the matter of himself and his own national pride and identity and he felt that, as a Sokovian, he had the right to speak out. He had a right to defend his newfound friends, his own nationality, and his own decisions, and the world _needed_ to know that. He clenched one of his hands into a fist. He owed it to the Avengers and he owed it to himself. So regardless of any doubts that he had, he was going to fucking do this interview.

It was funny, he thought to himself dryly. Several months ago, he would have done anything to kill the Avengers, yet here he was now, indebted to them for not only saving his life, but giving both his sister and himself a second chance. After everything that had gone wrong… the death of his parents, the experiments – even though that had actually gone hideously right – Ultron, his nearly dying… Pietro had thought that that would be it for them. But he had been wrong, and he was now so incredibly glad because of it. Yes, he supposed that he was still in a cage. But it was a good cage and it offered him something that no one before ever had: a chance at redemption.

He ran one hand through his hair anxiously, the other tapping a rhythm too fast to see on his leg as he waited for the elusive Miss Prewett to arrive. Although he had run into her this morning, he had barely seen the redheaded secretary since he had arrived; none of them had seen her. A part of him hoped that she would show up to the party tonight. It would be fun to see what she was like out of a business setting. Maybe more carefree and relaxed… He recalled the image of her that he had seen this morning. It had been like she had been thousands of miles away, a vacant almost dreamy expression on her face. He wondered what she had been thinking about that had caused her to stop walking directly in the middle of the hall.

"Mr. Maximoff?" Pietro whipped around at the sound of her English accent, holding his breath ever so slightly as he surveyed her. She was simply dressed in a sleeveless white blouse and pencil skirt, her hair pulled back in the same bun and he fleetingly wondered what she looked like when she let out the red locks.

"You ready?" she continued, either ignoring or not noticing his incessant staring. "Sorry I kept you waiting. I just had to deal with something." She sounded vaguely irritated, but then from what he had seen of her and knew of her, she was always irritated with something. He wished that she would smile a genuine smile. Just for a second. That would be nice.

"It's okay. I am used to waiting," he said instead, as he followed her down the steps and to the car. He smiled at her flirtatiously. "And you can just call me Pietro."

She gave him a look. "Have you forgotten anything, Mr _._ _Maximoff_?" she asked, stressing his last name deliberately, as she opened one of the car doors with a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

He shook his head, about to protest her use of his last name again, but she interrupted before he could say anything.

"Great," she said. "Then we'll head off then, shall we? We're already running slightly late as it is."

Pietro sighed and nodded mutely as he climbed into the back of the car. "You know," he observed, wrinkling his nose slightly, "I could just run us both there. It would be much faster than sitting in this… metal box for the next hour."

"That may be so, Mr. Maximoff," she replied, slapping down the large stack of folders on the middle seat between them. She sent him a superficial smile. "But we do have appearances to hold up."

Pietro looked out the window as the car began to pull away from the facility; he still couldn't decide whether the thing was ugly as fuck or a modern architectural masterpiece with its many windows and white walls. Outside, there were a batch of new recruits, most of whom he still had to get acquainted with, training out on one of the fields and from what it looked like, Natasha and Steve were supervising them. He mentally grimaced as he watched the cadets struggle though countless push-ups until the care rounded a bend and he could see them no more. While those two were definitely the most skilled combatants that he had ever had the good chance of meeting, their sessions were completely and utterly brutal. Hell, he was still aching from his first official session with them the other day. He turned his attention back to the redhead. No was as good a time as any to finally get to know her.

"So, what do I call you?" he asked curiously.

"Ginny," she responded grudgingly.

"Ginny," he said, testing out her name on his tongue. He tilted his head. "Where is your name from? It is not a name that I've heard of before."

"I don't know where it's from."

"It is an interesting name."

Ginny didn't reply. In fact, he didn't even know if she had heard him.

"So, are you coming to the party tonight?" he tried again.

"No," she muttered shortly.

"Why not?"

"Do I need a reason not to go?" She still hadn't raised her head from her notes, something that was frustrating Pietro to no end. He was used to people paying attention to him when he spoke, especially pretty women. After all, what pretty woman didn't want to be with a pretty guy? Or rather, that's what his own sense of logic told him anyway.

"Yes," he replied somewhat arrogantly.

She sighed, still not eyeing her notes. "I have work to do."

Pietro snorted. "That is a bad excuse. I mean, I have a very full schedule. Combat training, weapons training, and then more hand-to-hand training… You know," Pietro added, a slight tone of boastfulness entering his voice, "the simulation room is very difficult. It is good, but it's hard."

"Well, I'm sure that you can handle it," Ginny muttered, irritation now beginning to colour her voice.

Pietro smirked, delighted that he was finally getting a response out of her. "Oh, I know that I can handle it," he grinned smugly. "You know, the other day, we had to deal with an alien invasion." He frowned vaguely at the memory. "Natasha said that the simulation had been based on the events that occurred in New York."

"Wonderful," Ginny said dryly.

"It went very well," Pietro commented lightly, observing her casually. Her clothing today suited her very well, he decided. "Better than expected actually."

"Good for you," she muttered.

"I mean, some of it was hard, but like you say," Pietro said, leaning back comfortably against the chair, "it was nothing that I couldn't handle."

"Would you shut up?" Ginny asked suddenly.

Pietro grinned mischievously at her, acting like he hadn't heard her. Two could play at that game after all. "Wanda told me that you have five brothers."

Her whole body instantly stiffened and Pietro smirked knowingly to himself. There was definitely a story there.

"And?" she snapped, glaring down at her notes.

"That is a lot of brothers. I bet that you have a lot of stories."

She didn't answer.

"She also said that you were the youngest out of all of them," he said casually.

Once again, she didn't answer. In fact, now she seemed to be determined to not answer him at all and for some reason, Pietro felt oddly dismayed at that, because for some reason, he wanted this closed off, redheaded secretary to like him.

He didn't know why. He had never desired someone's attention before. In fact, attention had been something that he had never been lacking his entire life. First, it had been his parents. Then it had been relatives. Then it had been girls, so many girls and then women… Suddenly not to have any attention from a young woman, and pretty one at that, was something that he wasn't used to.

But if there was one thing that he had learned when it came to women, it was that things always worked out in his favour.

* * *

It was about an hour later when they arrived at the news station and walked out of the car. Pietro was glad to finally leave the cramped metal box. Cars had never been his favourite way to travel.

A too-skinny platinum blonde woman was standing in the fancy foyer of the news station as they walked in and Pietro watched Ginny curiously out of the corner of his eye. It was as though she transformed when she walked in the door of the station. She stood straighter, a small, perfected smile sitting on her lips, and was oozing a confidence that Pietro hadn't expected from the young woman. He shook in his head in slight disbelief. He knew that he shouldn't feel surprised – it was her job after all – but her sudden change was still unsettling. It made him wonder how much she could hide, how much of her was an illusion.

"Mr. Maximoff, I assume?" the blonde asked, an unidentifiable accent lilting her words as they walked up to the poshly dressed woman.

Pietro nodded in confirmation, watching the woman warily as she turned a condescending gaze onto the redheaded secretary who was still smiling that small, knowing smile next to him.

"So you are Miss Prewett?" the woman said, peering over the rims of her glasses at both Pietro and Ginny like they were children. "You're younger than I thought you'd be."

Ginny kept the fake smile in place. "That's what everyone says," she said mildly, making herself stand even straighter if that was possible. "But luckily for me, I don't give a damn what anyone else thinks."

Pietro hid a graceless snort at her wonderfully blunt words, but the secretary continued on without even blinking at his rude intrusion.

"And you're Ms. Jasmine Emming, if I'm correct?"

The woman scowled. "That's Ms. Emming to you. And yes, I am."

"Well, it's wonderful to meet you, _Ms._ Emming. And it's great that we were still able to meet today without any… unpleasant events occurring."

Unpleasant events? Pietro shot a wary look at Ginny, but she paid him no mind, still engaged in the staring battle with the elegant blonde.

"You have backbone, Miss Prewett," Emming said slowly, dragging her eyes back to Pietro's. "But don't push your luck." She eyed the two carefully, her piercing gaze missing nothing as it raked down their forms. "If you'll follow me," she said eventually, drawing her eyes away.

Emming lead them through a door with a large scanner before taking them through a number of corridors to a changing room. He supposed that it was nice, containing a number of chairs, many small light bulbs, and mirrors.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Emming said coolly, before turning out of the room and disappearing. Pietro was glad that she was gone. There was something about her, something spiteful and untrustworthy, that he didn't like.

Pietro looked at Ginny and grinned at her, slumping into one of the cushy seats. She already had all of her files neatly stacked and was in the process of going through one methodically.

"So, do you have any advice to give me before I go out and impress the world?" he said dramatically.

Ginny actually paused in her work, her brown eyes meeting his for the first time all day.

"Would you listen to what I have to say?" she said sceptically, putting her pen down on one of the make-up tables next to her.

"I always listen!" Pietro protested impishly.

Ginny rolled her eyes minutely. "Well, whatever identity you choose to give yourself out there, is the identity that the public are going to associate with you."

Pietro became suddenly serious as the importance of what he was to do dawned on him. Normally, he wasn't one for seriousness, but this? This was actually important. "This is a big deal, yes?" he asked softly.

She observed him dubiously. "Yes," she said bluntly. "It is a big deal. But don't forget that when you're out there, that you have control. You have control over what you say and how you answer a question."

Pietro nodded uncertainly. Control had never been something that had come easy to him. "Control. I can do that."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "I would hope so."

He leaned back in the chair, hoping that he looked more relaxed than he currently was. "So, how do you know so much about this? You have already done news interviews before?"

Ginny shook her head absently. "No, but I've been present for a number of them. I was Pepper's secretary before I came here and because she's the CEO of an international company, she had a lot, and I mean a lot, of interviews with stations all over the world. And before that? Well, let's just say for now that I had a friend who was in the news a lot."

Pietro paused at her wording, ignoring that fact that that had been the longest sentence that she had ever spoken to him. He also didn't miss the small, sad smile that flashed across her face when she mentioned her 'friend.' "Had?"

Ginny didn't answer, keeping her gaze firmly on the papers sitting in front of her. Why didn't she ever raise her head? "You'll probably be in the studio for about an hour or so. You can request breaks if you need them." She looked up from her papers, a carefully blank expression in her eyes and Pietro cursed to himself. Damn, he had lost her just when he had been getting through to her. He shouldn't have asked that last question. "Also, don't be afraid to tell them off when they're being a little bit too curious."

Pietro opened his mouth, an apology already sitting on his lips for his earlier comment, but the cool voice of Jasmine Emming distracted him.

"Mr. Maximoff. Miss Prewett. If you'll follow me? They're ready for you now."

* * *

"So, how did it go?" he asked slyly, as Ginny slid herself into the backseat of the car.

"I don't know, to be honest. I wasn't really paying attention," she replied absently, counting her folders for the fourth time to make sure that they were all there.

"But you were in the studio!"

Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, I was there, but I was working. So in other words," she said sweetly, "I wasn't paying attention." The truth was though, was that she had been paying attention. She had been paying attention the whole damn time.

Because his story had been so much more than a simple story. Instead, it had been an adventure of heart-wrenching pain, loss, and happiness. But what had been the most capturing thing about it was that it had been completely and utterly honest.

 _"_ _So, Mr. Maximoff-"_

 _"_ _It's Pietro," Pietro interrupted the interviewer with a charming smile and Ginny tried not to roll her eyes to heaven at his ridiculous attitude._

 _The reporter, meanwhile, beamed indulgently at him. "So, Pietro, tell us a bit about yourself. You are, after all, the newest hero to join the Avengers and not only that, but you're also from Sokovia. Was it growing up there?"_

 _Pietro shrugged. "As you already said, I grew up in Sokovia." He chuckled tensely. "It wasn't easy, being surrounded by constant war and unrest. When I was ten, my parents were killed in a bombing and well, ever since, my sister and I were left to take care of ourselves."_

 _The interviewer looked both shocked and sympathetic and Ginny snorted softly to herself at the woman's simpering expressions. "I can only imagine what that must have been life for you," the woman said apologetically. "But how was it that you got your powers? Did you have them your whole life?"_

 _Pietro shook his head absently, the silver in the strands glinting under the brightness of the studio lighting. "There is actually quite a story for that question, if you would be willing to hear it."_

 _The interviewer nodded. "Absolutely."_

 _Pietro sighed, a distant look coming into his eyes. "A few years ago, the riots in the streets were particularly bad. There was constant violence, shouting, protests… You could not go to sleep at night anymore without hearing shouting in your dreams." Pietro paused, seemingly unaware that the entire studio was silent, caught under the spell that his words were weaving. "My sister and I, well, we would often participate in the riots, you see, and by doing it, we felt like we were doing something. We felt like we were helping our country. And for a time, I suppose we were." His expression became slightly darker. "But then one day, several men came to one of the protests. They came into the crowd and started talking about opportunities and that we would be given an opportunity to save our country. It was like a dream come true," Pietro said simply. "To so many of us, that was all we ever wanted. We wanted to be heard, we wanted to have peace, we wanted to have a chance at what so many others in western countries had. And so, when they came up to us, we agreed to go with them. There were about one hundred of us on the day that my sister and I decided to go with them; I don't know how many others there had been before or after us. They then took us to an abandoned castle and organised us into two separate rows. One line was for women, the other for men. It was the first time that I had been separated from my sister in a long time._

 _"_ _They then made us sign pieces of paper - a paper that I never bothered to read - and brought us separately into examination rooms. In the room," Pietro remembered, his eyes slightly clouded, "there was a single chair with shackles and when they told me to sit in it and when they started doing up the shackles… That was when I first started to have doubts. But I didn't want to have doubts, you know, because I wanted to help my country. So I pushed my doubts to the depths of my mind." He took a deep breath and stared at the reporter unrelentingly. "And that was when the pain began. I don't know what they did, I don't know how they did it, and I don't know how long I was there. It was just endless pain. But one day, the pain stopped and they took me into a different cell. At first, I thought that everything was back to normal. That everything was alright. But then I started moving fast and everything else started moving slow and the entire time, the only thing that I could think about was my sister. I made her a promise, you see, when we young that I would always be there for her, that I would never leave her. But there I was, alone in a cell, not knowing where she was. Whether or not she was still alive..._

 _"_ _In the end, I don't know how much time passed, I saw her again and I was so relieved. Relieved that she was still alive and that I hadn't broken my promise to her… But she, like me, was different. Very different. Over time, we learned how to control our powers. It was tough and it was painful, but we managed it in the end. And now?" Pietro hesitated and the studio seemed to breathe again, as the effect of his tale slowly wore off. "Well, here I am. I have opportunities again. I can do something good." He shrugged. "I can even go back to school, if I want. And it's all thanks to the Avengers." He shook his head thoughtfully. "It's bittersweet, isn't it? But without them," he said softly, "I don't know where my sister and I would be."_

 _For a minute, there was complete silence in the studio, before the interviewer seemed to catch her breath and ask another question. But this time, instead of her voice sounding cocky and confident, she sounded like she was awe-inspired and Ginny couldn't blame her._

 _"_ _What do you think your sister would say if she were here now?"_

 _Pietro smiled. "I don't know. She is very independent."_

 _"_ _Well, I'm sure that she would be very proud of you. A story like that… Well let's just say, that would have to be hard to share with others."_

Ginny blinked. "Sorry?" she said somewhat stupidly. She hadn't been listening to anything that Pietro had just said.

"I said that it went surprisingly good," he replied casually, sending her a sidelong glance, and Ginny fought the urge to correct his grammar before telling herself that he was still getting a grasp on the foreign words. She had always gotten annoyed over things like that… Misspelt words, incorrect sentences, and bad grammar. She supposed that it had been a habit that she had picked up from her mum. "I think that the PR team will be happy."

"I'm sure that they will be if it went as well as you said it did," she said, keeping her eyes glued on the folders that she was arranging neatly into a pile on the middle seat. In fact, she added to herself mentally, she was sure that they'd be ecstatic. Not that she'd ever tell Pietro that though. He was much too egotistical already.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I hope that you guys enjoyed the latest chapter and thank you for all of the follows, favourites, and amazing reviews! You're all super awesome :)**

 **To the guests: I'm glad that you're all enjoying the story so far! And don't worry Kennylied: Everything shall be revealed :)**

 **Regarding shipping names! There were a couple of awesome ones to pick from, so I'm gonna put them here and then maybe I'll see which one you guys like the best. So we have GinTro (thanks to both MapleTreesAbove and E.J. Rudys), Gin &Tonic (thanks to overlordred), and Gietro (thanks once again to E.J. Rudys and mems1223).**

 **Question of the week is: Where is it you most want to go? I want to go to New Zealand. All of that culture and the beauty of the landscape...**

 **Anyway, I think that that's all for this week, so I hope that you all have an awesome week and until next Sunday!**

 **HauntedCinders**

 **P.S. When Ginny takes Pietro out on a date in the far, far future, where do you want her to take him? A quidditch match? Diagon Alley? (That is, if he even knows that she's a witch by then :P ) Or somewhere simple and not magic related?**


	6. Chapter 6

I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.

 _Joshua Graham_

* * *

Ever since the interview that had occurred several days ago – as well that wild party of Stark's – Pietro had been feeling rather self-satisfied with himself. The response to his interview had been phenomenal. Magazines were scrawling his name all over the front of their publications, news stations were commenting non-stop on his story, and he had been told that the fan mail that he was receiving had quadrupled ever since the interview had been aired. And the party... Well, that wasn't going to be something that he was going to be able to forget in a hurry.

He smirked to himself as he sauntered arrogantly down the corridor and towards his own room. For the first time in his life, everything was going his way. He and his sister were safe. He finally had the acknowledgement that he had desired since he was child, and even though Stark was still partially on his shit list, he no longer really cared about the arrogant, empty man.

"Wanda!" he crowed, spying his dark haired sister conversing with the red android at the end of the hallway.

But Wanda didn't turn around. In fact, she acted like she hadn't heard him, something that made Pietro feel vaguely annoyed. She was his sister! And that android thing? Pietro still didn't like him, only ever recalling the image of Wanda crying out in pain as she had entered into his mind all of those months ago. As far as he was concerned, Wanda didn't need to talk to someone that had caused her pain.

"Wanda? I need to talk to you," he said, choosing to use the language that they normally only spoke when they were alone.

Wanda turned around in irritation, brushing some of her russet hair out of her face. "I'm busy, Pietro," she said, stubbornly using English. "And besides, if you're going to brag about your success again, then I don't want to talk to you. You have already gone on about it so much that I swear that my ears will start bleeding."

Pietro paused and feigned a hurt look. In all honesty, that had been exactly what he had been going to do – he had been planning to talk about the latest magazine and ridiculous fan mail letters that he had received.

"Don't tell me you're jealous?" he teased.

"No. Not jealous. Just fed up," she replied bluntly. "Now, leave me alone. Vision and I were discussing defensive techniques after this morning's simulation session."

Pietro scowled at Vision. Ever since they had arrived here, his sister had spent an alarming amount of time with the humanoid that he didn't consider to be even remotely human and, well, he didn't like it.

For so long now, it had only ever been just the two of them. Together, they had lost everything and then they had fought to get it back. And they had succeeded. Or rather, they had succeeded to an extent. But now there was Vision.

"Fine," Pietro muttered sulkily. "I will leave you to have your secret conversation. I'll see you later and then," he stared at Wanda piercingly, "we will talk." And with that, he promptly stalked away from the two, not missing the small expression of guilt pass over Wanda's face. Good. She should feel guilty for choosing the android over him.

He heard her sigh behind him.

"Wait. Pietro!"

He stopped walking, not bothering to hide his expression of triumph as he turned around to face her. "What?"

Her face softened ever so slightly. "You know," she said, this time speaking her native tongue, "I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. You don't need to worry about me all the time anymore."

"But it's what I do," Pietro replied. He jerked a hand towards Vision. "And I worry about you being with him."

"You don't need to do that anymore though, Pietro," she said softly. "You've taken care of me for so many years…"

"And I will take care of you for the rest of you life as well," Pietro replied easily, unsure as to where she was heading with what she was saying.

Wanda sighed. "Don't you understand, though? You can do whatever you want now. I can take care of myself."

…

Ginny knew that she was being watched. She also knew that she didn't particularly care too much about it. After all, it wasn't as though she was going to do anything, except maybe blow up the occasional mug, she thought to herself wryly as she walked up the hallway towards the gym.

She hadn't stepped foot in the gym since she had been here. It wasn't that she didn't want to go, because Merlin knew that she needed to, it was just that she wanted to be alone when she went in there and from what she had gathered from the agents, it was always full.

But now, she walked into the gym for the first time and had to literally stop her mouth from dropping open at its sheer size. It was absolutely massive. In one corner, there was a huge gym mat on which a few couples were sparring in violent, yet hauntingly beautiful dances. On the sides, there was an array of treadmills, elliptical trainers, and rowing machines. In the middle, there were weights, chin up bars, racks, and many other things that Ginny couldn't even be bothered to name. As she stepped further into the gym, she found that she wouldn't be surprised if there was a swimming pool out the back and a small part of her couldn't help but wonder where the punching bag was. She needed to make a date with one of those things soon, or she would completely lose it.

"Hey! Prewett! Over here!"

The call made Ginny spin around on her heel to face Natasha Romanoff, the person who had called her and told her that there was a problem with some of the equipment in the gym.

"What do you need?" she asked, manoeuvring her way warily over to the elegant redhead through the maze of machines.

Natasha smirked at her, turning back to her partner. "Nothing. I just wanted to get you in here and see what you can do."

It took a moment for her comment to sink in. "Wait, what?" Ginny said incredulously. Surely she didn't mean what she thought she meant…

"Clint and I wanted to see your skills," she said causally. She folded her arms smugly and passed a glance over at Clint who was watching the interchange with apparent amusement.

Oh Merlin. Natasha meant exactly what she thought she had meant.

Ginny started to panic. "I have no skills," she said curtly, her hands clenching unconsciously into fists by her sides. "Plus, I don't know if you noticed, but I'm working. I am also, unlike the two of you," she glared at the two agents, "not an agent."

"But Hill told us that you had the afternoon off," Natasha said innocently. "In fact, she even encouraged that we do this. After all, you can't work for the Avengers and not know some sort of self defence."

"Well, I didn't get the message," Ginny said tightly. "And like I said, I don't know any self-defence."

But Ginny was lying. She did know self-defence. Or rather, she knew _some_. In fact, in her sixth year, just before the war, the DA had taught it – one of the more daring muggle-born members had taken classes since she had been young and had offered to teach them the basics. The war, after all, had demanded it and the few skills that she had learnt had saved her life on more than one account. But she had never wanted to use those ugly skills again. Besides, as a witch, close combat wasn't really something that was overly important; most battles were fought from a distance.

But then and again, could she even call herself a witch anymore? Because what sort of a witch didn't perform magic.

Natasha shrugged indifferently. "Then we'll teach you."

"Well, I don't want to learn," Ginny snapped.

"It's too bad that you don't get a choice in the matter then," Natasha said dismissively. She turned back towards Clint, oozing self-confidence, but her stance simply made Ginny even more upset as she watched the agent pick up a bundle of clothing from the floor. "Go and get changed," she said, tossing the bundle towards her. "You have five minutes."

But Ginny was already shaking her head and allowed the clothes fall to the ground in a sad, crumpled pile at her feet. "No. I am not going to learn self-defence. I don't care what you do, but I'm not learning and that," she hissed, "is final."

She walked out of the gym.

How dare they, she thought furiously as she strode down the corridor away from the gym. How dare they just presume that she was just going to automatically want to learn how to fight. It wasn't even on her bloody contract! Sure, they didn't know what she had gone through and she wasn't ever going to tell them either, but just because she was a 'helpless' secretary did not mean that she was going to be an agent. Not to mention, they could have just bloody asked her! She would have said 'no' anyway, but still. It would have been nice.

It happened suddenly, so suddenly in fact, that Ginny didn't even realise what had happened until it was too late to do anything about it.

A loud cracking sound, followed by a small bang, sounded above her as one of the lights shattered in a vivid explosion of sparks, shards of glass and twisted plastic. Someone screamed as another light fitting behind her did the same. For a moment, she just stood there in the centre of the corridor in disbelief, her previous anger fading away to fear.

 _She was running through the scattered remains of the entrance hall, forcing her eyes not to linger on the uniformed bodies that lay brokenly on the stone floor. There was a sharp cracking sound as one of the windows exploded into a million fragments of coloured glass. Ginny ducked to the ground, shielding her head and body as she skidded to a painful stop, splinters of glass pattering to the ground around her. She ignored the pain as the sharp edges pierced her ragged clothing and into her skin and for a moment, allowed herself to be helpless. She didn't want to have to get up. She didn't want to have to go back and fight. She didn't want to have to see another dead body._

 _She lay there for an indiscernible amount of time, which in reality was only a few seconds, before forcing herself back to feet. She wiped away the tears that had gathered in her eyes and started running again. There were people here that needed her._

"Hey, are you okay?"

The voice made her jump violently in terror, her heart beating feverishly with the adrenaline that was flooding her body. She looked around herself wildly, trying to reassure herself that that part of her life was long gone.

"I-I'm fine." Her voice sounded distant to her own ears as the woman, she didn't know who it was, looked at her in concern. Ginny's gaze landed on the debris that now littered the whole hallway; each of the ten lights that had previously lit up the hallway had exploded. Guilt began to overwhelm her. She had caused this.

"Should I take you to the med bay?" the woman asked, alarm now filtering through her voice. "You have a few cuts from where the glass hit you and you might have a concussion."

Ginny shook her head, realising for the first time just how lightheaded she felt. This shouldn't have happened. This wasn't supposed to have happened. She had been so sure that she would have been able to control her magic. "No really," she said, "I'm fine." She took an unsteady step forwards, her legs nearly giving way from underneath her. There were so many voices shouting in the corridor now… To her right, there was someone holding their head, blood flowing from an open wound.

Ginny felt her stomach turn as she made herself to look away.

"Is she alright?" The accented voice sounded strangely familiar. "Are you alright?" he said, this time addressing her directly.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pushing away the screaming emotions that raged inside her head. She would deal with her guilt later. Right now, though, she needed to focus. She needed to focus for her own sanity. She opened her eyes. "I'm fine," she said firmly, meeting Pietro's strong blue gaze. Ever since she had brought him to the interview, she had avoided him, not wanting to be confronted with his arrogance and his incessant need to annoy her. It wasn't that she hated him. It was just that he annoyed her. Or rather, he _distracted_ her, and Ginny hated distractions. "You need to take some of these people to the med bay though. Do you know where Hill is?"

"She's over there with Clint and Natasha," Pietro said, pointing over to where the agents were standing, each with stormy expressions plastered on their faces.

Ginny nodded absently. "Thanks," she said, striding as confidently as she could manage over to Hill.

"What the hell happened?" Maria demanded immediately, looking at her in slight surprise as she took in Ginny's appearance. "You good?"

"Yeah," she muttered, tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ear. "And as for what happened," Ginny raised her gaze, making sure to look each of the three agents in the eye. They needed to be convinced that she was telling a truth, that in all forms of reality, was a lie. "I don't know. I was walking down the hallway when I heard the cracking sound above my head; the light had exploded. The others followed soon after."

"Did you see anyone?" Natasha asked curiously.

Ginny shook her head, ignoring the slight thumping that the movement caused. "No. I was here the whole time and I saw nothing out of the ordinary." A sudden thought – an alibi – occurred to her. "Do you think that there were bombs planted in the lights?" Anything to lead them away from what had actually occurred would be helpful.

Maria passed a sidelong glance to Natasha. "We don't know," she said tersely. "But if there was something planted there, then why was it even planted there in the first place? Despite causing a scare, placing explosives in lights doesn't really do anything."

"Maybe it was a trial run before a real attack?" Ginny suggested, hiding her shaking hands behind her back.

"Or someone's version of a prank," Clint murmured, still surveying the damage that littered the hallway. He brought his gaze abruptly up to Maria. "Has tech gone over the video footage yet?"

"They're going through it now," Maria confirmed. "In a couple of hours, we should know what happened." She paused. "And Prewett, get your ass over to medical. You look terrible."

"It's nothing," Ginny said quickly. "Just a few scratches. I can take care of it myself."

After tending to the various wounds of countless students – mainly Gryffindors – who had received 'detention' from the Carrows, Ginny knew how to treat a basic cut. Hell, she had done it for herself more than once.

But Maria simply sighed patronisingly. "Medical, Prewett. Now."

Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off. Again.

"Start walking," Natasha said bluntly. The assassin smiled a sweet, ruthless smile. "Unless you want an escort."

Ginny's face tightened, but she turned around obediently and started walking in the direction of medical without further complaint. She vaguely wondered whether or not they would find out if she just treated her cuts herself rather than going to the constantly crowded hospital. She scowled to herself as she stepped carefully over the broken glass. Knowing them, they probably would. They had a way of finding out everything.

Her thoughts quickly turned to what she was about to face. Ginny hated muggle doctors. Their needles, their medicines, their desperate need for cleanliness, their superiority complexes… She hadn't been to the medical bay at S.H.I.E.L.D. yet, but she was sure that all of those same rules applied to them – maybe even more so seeing as they worked here of all places; she imagined that the requirements for working with the Avengers were pretty damn high.

She remembered the first time that she had a run in with one after she had gotten horribly ill a year and a half ago. She had turned up to work anyway, but Pepper had taken one look at her and dragged her off to some muggle doctor whom Ginny couldn't remember the name of. The doctor had taken her blood, stuck some sort of painful needle device in her arm that she later discovered was called an IV, and told her with an incredibly arrogant tone a couple of hours later, "You have a very severe chest infection, Miss Prewett. I'm going to give you some antibiotics through an IV to kick-start the healing process, and afterwards, I'll give you some take home medication. I don't know why you didn't do anything about this sooner." She grimaced as she recalled the sound of her high-pitched voice.

And then there was the whole matter of her scars – her torso was full of them. Ginny shuddered at the thought of her marred skin, courtesy of the Carrows. She covered them up when she needed to – thank Merlin for the permanent cosmetic charms and glamours – but they were still there. Always reminding her, always sneering at her, always telling her exactly what she had had to suffer through to get to this point.

Another wave of dizziness passed over Ginny and she found herself leaning against a wall for support, thoughts of the Carrows and their methods of punishment disappearing quickly from her mind as her vision blurred around the edges. Maybe she did have a concussion… But then and again, she thought wryly, she had had one of those before and this was most definitely not it. She snorted softly to herself at the next thought as she waited for the light-headedness to pass. Maybe it was simply the guilt.

And just like that, all of those emotions, thoughts, and feelings that she had so carefully locked away only mere minutes ago came rushing back. Shouts, loud cries, splintering glass, flashes of light, the events that had just occurred mingling with the events of the war… Ginny shut her eyes tightly, one hand still against the wall as she clenched her hand into her fist, her fingernails digging harshly into her palm. She desperately tried to ground herself, but it was too late.

Why was this still happening to her? The war was years ago! It was over! Why was she still getting these episodes? Why were the memories still plaguing her? It wasn't fair.

She never should have come here. She never should have placed herself in such a volatile environment. She should have known that she wasn't going be able to handle it.

Surely she had suffered enough already.

…

Pietro strolled down the corridor and out of the medical wing, feeling rather proud of himself. That had been his first true use of his speed ever since Sokovia, and in his opinion, it had gone quite well. Yes, he had been in simulations, but even then he hadn't pushed himself as he had done today. Hell, thanks to him, he thought somewhat conceitedly, everyone who had been injured was now in the safe and capable hands of the S.H.I.E.L.D. medical personnel and Helen Cho; he classified Cho in a different box, seeing as what she did was entirely different to what the other medical staff did.

He briefly wondered whether Ginny had also ended up going to the medical wing. He hadn't seen her, despite the numerous trips that he had made, and he wondered if she was still talking with Clint, Natasha, and Hill. He remembered her pale, freckled face, blood sliding down one of her cheeks from a small, but deep cut from one of the glass shards and when she had looked at him… Pietro frowned at the memory. The professional secretary had seemed absolutely terrified, her eyes wide and unfocused as though she had been seeing something that only she could see. He knew that he could barely claim to know her, but he got the impression that what he had glimpsed was something that didn't happen very often to her.

"Get your hands off me!" a furious, feminine voice said, pulling Pietro out of his thoughts. "I can walk by myself, thank you very much."

Pietro turned his head curiously in the direction that the voice had come from and found himself looking at the very woman whom he had just been thinking of. Ginny Prewett. But this time, despite the spots of blood, she looked very much in control of herself, albeit a bit pale, and was glaring fiercely at an agent, whose hands were lingering uncertainly next to her shoulders as though he wasn't sure whether or not to help her.

"What's going on?" Pietro found himself asking, as he zipped up to the pair. He smirked impishly at her as she rolled her eyes at him.

Ginny scowled. "Nothing," she muttered, shaking herself away from the agent who standing next to her.

The agent, however, looked at Pietro with something akin to relief on his face and Pietro felt a brief flash of amusement at his wary expression. "She collapsed," he said hurriedly. "Only for a few seconds. I swear, all I was trying to do was get her to medical."

Pietro passed a sharp look towards Ginny, no longer finding the situation so amusing. "You collapsed?"

"I'm conscious now," she said tightly. "Anything else is irrelevant. Besides, I was heading to medical anyway. And no," Ginny glared fiercely at the two, crossing her arms defensively across her chest, "I don't need a bloody escort." And with that, the redhead spun on her heel and kept walking determinedly towards medical. Pietro didn't miss the slight uncertainty in her steps.

"Just let it slide, man," the other agent muttered to him, already turning away. "I'd rather keep my head."

Pietro shot the agent a quizzical look. "Keep your head?"

The agent snorted. "She's gotten quite the reputation for biting people's heads off. I mean, she's super efficient and seemingly tough and all that, but she's also a hard ass. You know," the agent mused, "I don't even think that she's made a single friend since she's been here, but with an attitude like that, who would want to be her friend?" He snickered. "I sure as hell wouldn't. Anyway, I'll see you around, yeah?"

Pietro nodded absently and watched the slowly disappearing secretary with newfound interest.

So, she had a reputation, did she? And no friends either? He smirked to himself. Well now she just sounded even more interesting than ever.

* * *

 **Hello lovley readers! I hope that you all enjoyed this update :) Once again, thank you for all of the favourites, follows, and reviews! You're all super awesome!  
**

 **To Dalliene: Thanks for reviewing and I'm really glad that you're enjoying this fic so far!**

 **Anyway, if you've found any mistakes or anything like that, then let me know.**

 **In regard to the ship name for Ginny and Pietro, I have decided to go with, due to popularity and it being a personal favourite, is Gin &Tonic! So, thank you very much to Overlordred, who submitted that very clever play on words! **

**Question of the week is: What super power(s) would you want to have? Personally, I would love to be able to have telekinesis or the ability to fly. Both would be so amazing.**

 **Have a lovely week and until next Sunday!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	7. Chapter 7

You cannot find peace by avoiding life

 _Virginia Woolf_

* * *

Ginny tried to withhold her scowl, as a doctor shone a light in her eyes. This was exactly why she hated muggle doctors. They liked poking, prodding, and shining lights all over the place. Healers on the other hand...Well, they just got stuff done. If you had a problem, they would deal with it and quite often, there was usually no pain or discomfort involved. Of course, there were the utterly foul potions that they like stuffing down people's throats, but it wasn't actually painful.

"And you're sure that your head wasn't hit by any flying debris?" The doctor flicked the light off, much to Ginny's relief, and tapped something on his tablet.

"Yes, I'm sure," Ginny said, allowing a bored note to slip into her voice. Merlin, why had she bothered coming here again?

"Have you experienced any dizziness or nausea since the incident."

Well, she had, but that was completely unrelated to what had happened. "No."

"When was the last time your had a tetanus shot?"

A tetanus shot? What the hell was a tetanus shot? "I don't know," she said honestly.

The doctor, she believed his name was Asher, made another note on his tablet. "Right," he muttered. "I'll call up your medical history in a second then and have a look." He looked up from the tablet and at the cut again critically. "Now, your cut is small, so I'm not going to suture it. But seeing as its deep, we will have to keep an eye on it. For now though, I'll just get one of the nurses to put some butterfly strips on it and we'll go from there." He paused. "Now, the only thing that's truly worrying me, and it's not actually related to the accident, is your blood pressure. When the nurse measured it when you came in, it was very high. Have you had problems with it in the past?"

She sighed. "No." She really had to do some reading on muggle medical terminology.

Asher, or whatever his name was, frowned at her. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's very high and I don't like it. Especially for someone as young as you. Have you been sleeping well?"

"Yes," she lied. He didn't need know about her nightmares. In fact, as far as she was concerned, he didn't really need to know anything about her at all.

"And how many hours do you think you get a night?"

She shrugged. "Six, maybe seven, on a good night?" Another lie.

Asher frowned. "And on a bad night?"

"Four. Maybe less depending on the work that I'm doing." Or the nightmares that she was having, she added to herself grimly.

"And how are you coping with stress?"

She smiled artificially. "Just fine."

He looked at her doubtfully, but got up from the small chair anyway, apparently somewhat satisfied with her reply. "Right then. I'll just check your history briefly for you regarding that tetanus shot and then I'll get a nurse to come in here and do your butterfly strips and measure your BP again." He smiled briefly at her. "I'll be back in a sec."

Ginny smiled tensely back at him as he turned around, only relaxing completely when he had left the small cubicle. As she had expected, medical was both busy and filled with doctors who thought they knew everything. People were yelling, machines were beeping, and bags holding some kind of fluid were being wheeled around all over the place. Merlin, even St. Mungo's, which had the weirdest and most horrific accidents turn up there every single day, wasn't as busy as this horrible place. She flopped tiredly against the pillows. She shouldn't have read those files last night. If she hadn't read those files, then maybe she wouldn't have lost her control earlier. If she had slept and faced her problems instead of ignoring them, then maybe this would never have happened.

 _But_ , a traitorous voice in her mind whispered. _Lack of sleep isn't the only cause_. _If you had used magic, if you had picked up your bloody wand and performed a spell like you were taught, then your little problem would have been solved a long time ago._ Ginny swallowed hard. She had been trying so hard to push and lock that thought firmly away, yet it had come up anyway. She rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on.

Rationally, she knew that her accidental magic had now reached a point where she could no longer avoid using her wand. In fact, if she had any sense at all, then she would march over to her room right this instant and pick up the bloody thing. But that was the thing, because Ginny knew that she wasn't being sensible or in any way rational. No. Instead, she was being stupid, becoming consumed by the fear that picking up her wand would surely bring. After all, once she picked it up, then there was no turning back. It would mean that she would once again be a part of the world that she had tried so hard to get away from.

She sighed and pulled herself out of her thoughts of wands and magic, wondering what Maria would think when she discovered that there had been no real scientific cause the explosion of the lights. She supposed that it could be blamed on an electrical fault, but the chance of a power surge happening only to all of the lights in that corridor was extremely low. She hoped that they wouldn't turn their suspicions onto her. She already knew that they were watching her, and while she didn't really care all that much about it, she didn't really want any more of it either. Especially from Natasha. That woman was sharp and incredibly intelligent and the last thing that Ginny needed was for the assassin to start following her around the place.

"Miss Prewett?" a nurse's voice asked briskly, shaking Ginny out of her thoughts. Her eyes snapped to the stocky blonde. She was carrying what she assumed to be the thing that measured her blood pressure carefully in one of her hands; a small basin holding a few bandages and an empty vial was being held securely in the other. "I'm Holly. I'll be doing your BP reading and your bandages." She sat herself down on the stool and placed her supplies on the bed. "If you'll sit up please?"

Ginny did as she was asked.

"So you were in that whole corridor kerfuffle, were you? Lean forward please."

"Yeah," Ginny murmured, trying not to wince as Holly prodded around her wound with gloved fingers. "I was."

"I assumed as much. We have a whole bunch of agents in here at the moment for the same reason. You know, scratches and stuff like that from the glass shards."

"No one was badly injured though, right?" Ginny asked hesitantly.

Holly shook her head, her gaze still concentrated on the cut on Ginny's forehead. "I'm just going to sterilise this," she said absently, before reaching for the vile in the cardboard basin. "No one was badly injured. Someone needed a few stitches, but that's nothing major. Or rather," she chuckled dryly, "that's nothing major in this department anyway. This might sting a little, by the way."

Ginny nodded, ignoring the sharp tingling that followed a second later. She watched as the nurse grabbed the small packet of butterfly strips and grabbed a couple of the small, long bands.

"You still good? You're looking a bit pale."

Ginny nodded as Holly carefully pinched the skin on her forehead together and applied the tiny strips. Why did people keep asking her that? "Fine."

Holly raised an eyebrow condescendingly. "Sure?"

"Yes," Ginny said irritably. Merlin, she couldn't wait until she was released from this hellhole.

"Also, I'm going to have to take your blood."

Ginny looked at Holly sharply. "Why?" The doctor hadn't said anything to her about them needing to take her blood.

Holly, however, simply shrugged as she tied a tourniquet firmly around one of her arms. "Orders from on high apparently. We've been ordered to take blood from everyone who was involved in the incident."

Ginny's eyes narrowed slightly at the blonde. They were taking blood now, were they? Well, that may or may not be a problem - she didn't know if there were any markers in her blood that would indicate that she was something else other than human.

She cleared her throat surreptitiously. "And do you know what they're going to be doing with the blood?"

Holly shrugged, still very much focused on her task at hand. "Analysing it, I would expect. They're probably going to look at the DNA within the cells as well. You know," she said conversationally, inserting the needle carefully into Ginny's arm, "I've heard recently that there are other humans who have special abilities. Anyway, apparently those people have genetic markers in their blood that indicate that they're not all that normal, so I would assume, that that's what they're looking for."

"Humans with special abilities?" Ginny made a mental note to look into it later as she watched her blood fill up the vial. If it were true, then S.H.I.E.L.D. would have a record of it. However, whether or not she was going to able to access those files was a completely different matter entirely.

"Yes, rather incredible, isn't it. There we go. All done," Holly said, removing the needle from her arm. "If you'll just press this tightly against the entry point?"

Ginny accepted the cotton wool wordlessly and watched as Holly quickly packed up her things. "The doctor will be back soon," she said, before leaving Ginny, at last, in peace and with more than enough things to think about. Oh well, at least they weren't suspecting her. Yet. She vaguely wondered what they would do, though, when they realised when there was no explanation as to why the lights exploded. Because if the Avengers were anything like Maria, then they weren't going to give up until they found the culprit.

"I thought that that woman would never leave?" The familiar sound of the accented and arrogant voice shouldn't have surprised Ginny jump, but it did and she blinked her eyes open to stare at the silver haired speedster in utter distaste. "Are you feeling better?"

"Get out."

Pietro pretended to look insulted as he plonked himself in the rather uncomfortable looking chair that was sitting next to her bed. "But I came to check on you," he protested.

Ginny glared at the ceiling of the medical bay, desperately wishing that he wasn't there. She didn't really know what it was, but something about him just rubbed her the wrong way. "And as you can see, everything is fine. So, go away."

"Did you really pass out in the corridor?" Pietro's voice was no longer joking and Ginny had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. "It is a serious matter if you collapsed."

"Do I look like I care?" she muttered carelessly. "And in my opinion, it isn't a serious matter. I was stressed and shocked or however you want to put it and I fainted. I was pathetic. End of story. No big deal. The end. Go away."

Pietro was silent for a moment. "Well, I'm not leaving until you tell me the real reason why. And you shouldn't treat your health like it's no big deal. It is important, you know?"

"Yes, I do know and I did just tell you what really happened," Ginny snapped, turning to Pietro in annoyance. "What more do you want from me?"

Pietro's blue eyes flashed. "The truth."

"I just gave you the truth," Ginny said, her own eyes hardening.

"No, you gave me a version of the truth." Pietro leaned forward, his silver hair glinting slightly under the harsh lighting. "You want to know how I know? Ever since I have met you, you keep a mask on your face, but earlier? You let that mask slip and you were scared. You saw something. Something that is making you afraid."

Ginny stared at him blankly. She hadn't realised that she had seen her brief lapse after the explosion of the lights, but oh well. It couldn't be fixed now.

"Well, I hate to say it," Ginny said bluntly, "but you're... right." If she convinced him that she was maybe telling him the truth, then maybe he would finally leave her in peace. She took a deep breath. This had to look as authentic as possible. "I was afraid. I was afraid that I was going to die. I mean," she paused, "the lights were exploding above my head." She laughed bitterly. "Would you have reacted any differently?"

Pietro shrugged and leaned back in the chair, eyeing her carefully. At least some of the suspicion in his face had disappeared. "I wasn't there, so I cannot say," he said slowly.

Silence fell between them and Ginny wished that Pietro would just leave her alone. Why did he care so much anyway? He didn't know anything about her. She didn't know anything about him. He had absolutely no reason to care. Yet here he was. Sitting next to her in a horrible, uncomfortable looking chair while she was lying in a hospital bed. It didn't really make all that much sense.

"Why are you here?" she blurted suddenly, cursing herself immediately after. She wanted him to leave, for goodness sake! Not give him another reason to stay.

Pietro, however, smirked his familiar smirk at her and wiped a hand through his hair, surveying her with a calculating look. "As in here with the Avengers or here with you?"

Ginny shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage, turning her eyes towards the ceiling once again. "Interpret it how you will."

"Well, you have read my file, yes?"

"Some of it."

"I am sure, then, that you know what happened to me after Sokovia? How I died?"

Ginny inclined her head slightly. "I admit that I read some of it."

"Well, I am here to repay them, the Avengers, for what they did. Because of them, I was able to stay with Wanda and give myself a new chance at life. You know," he said absently, "I promised Wanda that I would never leave her." He stared grimly at the floor. "I so very nearly did. I came so very close. And the Avengers and Helen Cho's technology allowed me to keep living. It was not what I had originally planned for myself," Pietro shrugged, "but that is why I'm here. To repay a debt that can never be repaid. And why I am here with you? Well, that answer is simple. I was worried. I wanted to check to make sure that you actually came here."

Ginny froze for a minute second, her heart rate speeding up at his sudden and unexpected reply. She hadn't imagined that that was his answer. In fact, she had been thinking more along the lines of the fact that the silver haired Sokovian was there to mock her for fainting and being a wimp in the corridor after the lights had exploded. She turned her face briefly away from his. Merlin, when was the last time that someone had legitimately worried about her enough to go out of their way and check on her? Pepper had done, all of those months ago, but then and again, Pepper was a special case because she cared about everybody. But recently? Hell, she was lucky if Maria even bothered noticing that there was something wrong, and if she did notice, then she would just leave Ginny to her own devices to figure it out. In all honesty though, that had been and was still what Ginny preferred. Ever since the war, she had been reliant on nobody but herself, and it had been _freeing_. She had been able to sort out her own shit for herself, she had been able to organise herself, and she had, most importantly, had her own space to think and do things by herself. There had been no one worrying about her, judging her, pestering her and she had been content in a kind of lonely way. But now? Now Pietro, an arrogant Sokovian, was sitting next to her and apparently worrying about her. And she didn't really know what to do about it. After all, she was used to being left alone - she wasn't known as being a hard-ass for nothing. "Well, that's nice of you," she deflected finally, "but as you can see and as I said earlier, everything is perfectly fine."

Pietro's face hardened into a scowl, but he didn't say anything further on the topic. "Now, why are you here?"

"Because I was requested to be here," Ginny said shortly, but Pietro was already shaking his head.

"I don't believe you," he said simply. "One does not find themselves in this business by accident."

"Well, it found me by accident," she retorted.

Pietro snorted softly to himself. "Why do you hide?" he asked suddenly.

"Why do you keep thinking that I'm a liar?" Ginny countered, focusing her gaze back on the boring, white ceiling. Why was he still here? "Now can you leave me alone? I'm tired and 'in shock' and all of that."

Pietro was still for a moment before standing up stiffly; Ginny didn't miss the somewhat disappointed expression that flashed on his face. But she didn't allow herself to dwell on it all that much.

"Fine. I have to go and talk with the rest of the team, anyway." And with that, Pietro thankfully left Ginny alone in her cubicle.

* * *

"Was anything found?"

Steve's voice was grim, as the video footage from earlier once again played on all of the tablets of those assembled in the room.

"No," Maria said shortly. "I had our analysts look over the footage frame by frame up twenty-four hours before the incident, but there was nothing. No one put anything there, so if they were bombs then they must have been placed there much longer ago. I'm already having tech go through all of the footage since the base started letting employees and agents in."

"Maybe, if bombs were the cause, they were already in the lights before they were even installed."

Maria paused. "That's a possibility." She made a note on her tablet to interrogate the electrical technicians who had installed the lights in the building.

"An electrical surge?" Wanda suggested, but Maria was already shaking her head.

"They're still going over the footage, although from what I can tell, they don't think that it was the lights themselves."

"So it was the glass that exploded?" Natasha asked curiously.

Maria nodded. "Seems like it."

"Could it have been Wanda?" Clint piped in, jumping down lightly from the table that he had sat himself on. To his left, he saw Pietro scowl at the suggestion that his sister had blown up the lights.

But Maria shook her head again. "No. She was too far away from where it happened at the time. Also, she was with Vision and Steve and they reported nothing unusual."

Clint's brows furrowed as he turned his sharp gaze towards the super soldier and the android. "Are you guys sure? One of the witnesses recalled seeing a red light when the lights exploded."

"We're sure," Steve said, passing a sidelong glance to Vision who nodded in confirmation. "Also, Vision would have been able to sense whether or not Wanda was about to lose control."

The team fell into silence, each contemplating the possible variables and causes that could have triggered something like what had happened in the hallway to occur.

"Another agent then?"

Maria's expression turned grim at Natasha's proposal. "It's possible. I'm already having medical run a series of blood tests on everyone that was there. If there was someone with powers that caused this, then it'll be in their DNA and we'll find them."

"You think that that's possible?" Pietro interrupted curiously. "That there would be another person here with powers?"

Maria stared at Pietro seriously. "It's a possibility, yes."

"And if we don't find them?" Natasha asked, focusing the topic on the incident once again.

Maria sighed. "Then we'll have to interview everyone on the base. All of the new recruits, the staff, everyone. And if she's willing," Maria added grimly, "Wanda will also be a part of the interview process. As I'm sure you all realise, we can't let something like this go. We can't afford there to be someone on the base who has the potential or the desire to attack us."

"But maybe we should just let it go," Pietro said suddenly. He turned to Maria, a strange glint in his eye. "If this person really does want to attack us, then there'll probably be another attack in the future, yes? And if they think that we think that it was just a one-time thing, then they'll be bolder and more obvious next time. And if it is a powered person after all, then the chance that they lose control again is also high." He shrugged. "Plus, if they lose control, then we can just look at the videos and see which people were there today and which people were at the second incident."

"The kid has a point," Steve said slowly. "If we let it go, and this person or series of people really is a threat, then they'll become confident in the knowledge that we think that the whole matter was just a fluke. So I say se just let it go for now, and see where it takes us."

Maria closed her eyes briefly. Maximoff did have a point, but she didn't have to like it. Or admit it. Personally, she wanted to have the whole incident done and dusted as soon as possible, but she was outvoted. "Fine," she said tightly. "But we're still doing blood checks and if we find anything suspicious, then we'll look into it. And if something like this happens again, then it's going to be all hands on deck. Got it? And Pietro? Wanda? I want to speak to you before you leave. Everyone else is dismissed."

* * *

 _Ginny,_

 _I know that I haven't written to you. I'm sorry. I should've done it a long time ago, but I wasn't sure whether or not you would want to hear from me. From anyone at all actually. But enough is enough. Everyone's worried about you. We don't know whether or not you're okay or whether you're even still alive. Merlin, Gin, do you know how scary that is? You know, we all thought that you'd come back within the week, but then one week passed and then another and before we knew it; you'd been gone for an entire year. And then another and another. We tried searching for you. We really did. But we never found you. Hell, Gin, if there were something that I could do to take back what we all said to you those years ago, I would do it. Just do something. Send a sign or something to tell us that you're still alive and that you're all right. Please Ginny. Dad's all but given up and Ron's half insane – he still can't believe that you would run away and leave him, leave us, when we needed you most._

 _We know that it was your decision to leave. We just never thought that you'd be so serious about it and with the anniversary coming up… Well, we were all hoping that you'd come home._

 _Think about it at least. And please, Ginny, send us something. Even if it's a howler or a blank sheet of parchment, we'll accept it._

 _Charlie_

Ginny let the letter slip through her fingers and float gently to the floor, a strange mix of anger, grief, and desolation welling up inside of her. A perfect end to a perfect day, she thought sarcastically to herself as she sat down heavily on the sofa.

The last time that she had seen Charlie, that she had seen any of her family actually, had been just over three years ago and it was a memory that she didn't really want to relive. The words that had been spoken, the threats that had been issued… They had known that she had wanted to leave of course, but they hadn't really believed that she would dare do it.

She sighed and rubbed her temples tiredly. Even though it had been several hours since the incident, her arm was still aching from the tetanus shot, she had a headache, she had blown up several light fittings, and on top of all that, the anniversary of the war and of _their_ deaths was in a few weeks. Of course, she wasn't going to go home for the 'occasion' – her family would never let her leave once she stepped through the front door and as for a reply to Charlie's letter? Well, she didn't even know if she wanted to send one.

She knew that that was an incredibly bitchy and immature thing to do. After all, who wouldn't send a letter to their family to let them know that they were at least alive?

Ginny groaned and placed her head in her hands. Merlin, she needed to sort out her shit and stop acting like a spoiled child. Desperately. And she needed, whether she liked it or not, to start with her family. She looked down at the letter despondently and pushed herself up from the couch slowly. Charlie had sent the olive branch. Now all she had to do was accept it, but unfortunately, that was a lot easier said than done.

Oh screw it all, she thought to herself crossly, I'll just send them a little something. Just something small to keep them satisfied. That way, she'd be rid of the letter problem and would be able to keep at least some of her maturity, and they'd be happy to know that she was alive. It was a win-win situation.

Baby steps, she told herself as she marched into her room and opened the cupboard. Baby steps. She took a deep breath and knelt down to the large box of things that contained all the old material from her school days. The box glowed softly at her touch, recognising the hands that performed the intricate locking charm, and she closed her eyes, her heart thumping in her chest, as she opened the lid. This letter, using a quill and parchment, was going to be the first connection to the magical world that she had had in years.

She opened her eyes and looked warily into the neatly stacked box. There were a number of quills in one corner and underneath them, a stack of fresh parchment. She sighed in relief as she dug out a sheet of it and grabbed a quill and inkpot, careful not to touch any of the other items in the box. She shut the lid quickly when she was finished, not allowing her eyes to drift to the small, elongated case that she knew contained her wand or the cauldron that contained several vials of potions that she no longer had a need for.

The parchment felt odd in her tingling fingers as she got back to her feet and she slammed the cupboard door with more force than was strictly necessary. It was dry, yet comforting at the same time. But it was also dangerously and hopelessly familiar and that was when Ginny knew; she wasn't going to be able to resist the call of magic for much longer.

She walked back into the kitchen slowly, placing down the objects that she held in her hands carefully on the bench. She had absolutely no clue as to what she wanted to write to Charlie, nor as to how she would get the letter to him – Aldith, Charlie's owl, had flown off into the forest somewhere when she had dropped off Charlie's letter.

She sat herself carefully down onto a stool sitting next to the bench, and stared at the parchment, inkwell, and quill somewhat mournfully. What the hell did one write to a brother whom she hadn't seen or heard from in the last three years? Because for some reason, she didn't think that a simple 'hello' and 'how are you' would suffice. She grimaced.

It took her several hours, many frustrated sighs and a lot of pacing, but in the end, what she wrote to Charlie was very simple.

 _I'm alive._

 _Don't come looking for me again._

 _Ginny_

* * *

Wanda closed her eyes determinedly. "I will do this," she said finally, ignoring her brother's sound of indignation from beside her.

"No, I will not allow you to even consider to do this," Pietro said angrily. "I will not allow it!"

"Well, I do," Wanda said curtly. "And besides," she said, turning to face him in irritation, "this is my choice. Not yours. You no longer need to look after me, Pietro."

Pietro turned to Maria, an imploring look in his eyes and Wanda fought not to roll her eyes at his ridiculous behaviour. When would he learn that she no longer needed his protection?

"Good," Maria said, thankfully ignoring her embarrassing brother before moving into the business side. "The suspect is at a different base, so we'll have to fly you out tomorrow morning at approximately 0500 hours."

Wanda nodded to the brunette. "I will be there."

"Good," Maria said again, now tapping something on her ever-present tablet. "I'll see you tomorrow morning then."

"Will you be coming with me?" Wanda asked curiously.

"Yes," Maria said grimly. "Normally I wouldn't, but this is something that needs to be dealt with. I recommend that you get a good night's sleep tonight. Tomorrow's probably going to be pretty draining."

Wanda nodded again before exiting the room, her brother following her, his angry steps filling the otherwise empty corridor.

"Why did you agree to do that?" he said furiously to her back. "You know that I won't be able to protect you when you're there! I won't be able to come with you!"

"I know, Pietro," Wanda said, for once wishing that he would just respect her decision. She was an Avenger now, not a small, cowering little girl. She no longer needed to be the subject of all of his worries.

She found a part of her wishing that Vision were somewhere close by, craving his quiet, wise words as she tuned out Pietro's voice. For some reason, the android seemed to understand her desire to be independent perfectly. In fact, to be brutally honest, he was the only one that offered at least a little bit of relief to her raging emotions. It was an odd feeling, she decided, that Pietro was no longer the only one who understood her anymore. In fact, she felt like that the longer she stayed here, at the Avengers Facility, the more she was losing him.

"Don't do this, Wanda," Pietro said, a pleading note entering his voice. "Don't do this."

Wanda stopped in her tracks, anger beginning to trickle through her veins as she whipped around to face her brother. "But I am doing this, Pietro," she ground out through clenched teeth. "I am no longer a child. I am an Avenger and I believe that I'm capable to interrogating this man. If I wasn't, then they wouldn't have asked."

She left her brother standing dumbstruck in the middle of the corridor.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! Thank you for all of the new reviews, follows, and favourites! They always make my day when I see them in my inbox! Personally, I don't really like this chapter all that much, but I'll see what you guys think.**

 **To your fan mel: Thanks for your review! And manipulating probability? That is an interesting superpower... A very cool one, as a matter of fact! And as for your other comment? Well, that was pure genius!**

 **To dalliene: Thanks for your review and I'm glad that you're enjoying the story so far! And telekinesis is definitely a super awesome superpower :P**

 **Right, so the next bit is IMPORTANT: I am very sorry, but I will not be updating next week! "Why?" you may be asking. Well, it is because I am going away with my family from this coming Saturday to the following Saturday and my parents have forbidden me from bringing my laptop. They have said that I can take all of my school stuff for studying and whatnot, but they have forbidden my beloved laptop from coming with me. (They're worried about the amount of writing that I have doing lately, which I can totally understand :P ). So, in exactly TWO weeks, you shall see Chapter 8 sitting in your inbox.**

 **As such, I hope that all of you have a lovely two weeks and I apologise that I won't be able to update next week!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	8. Chapter 8

You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it.

 _Margaret Thatcher_

* * *

A boy stood in a courtyard made of cracked stone. Around him, bodies lay in broken patterns, littering the ground with a gruesome scene of blood and empty silence. The air was slightly cold in the early morning dawn, as she played witness to the scene that was about to play out before her.

Out of the shadows, a man slithered. He was cloaked in cloth the colour of death and the few limbs that were revealed were sallow and pale. Even before his hideous face was revealed, she knew that he was a threat. She swallowed hard as she watched him glide along the blood-slicked stones, unseen power crackling through the air as he lay his slitted eyes on a green-eyed, battered looking boy. She hadn't noticed him before and she eyed him with new interest. Who was he? How did he fit into this scene? She glanced back to the man, if he could even be called a man, and shot another wary look towards the grim, world-weary boy.

She wanted to do something, call out to the boy and warn him of the man that was approaching him, but the look on his youthful face told her that he was all too aware of what he was going to be facing. She felt her heart break slightly at the sight of his determined face and the image of Pietro flicked through her mind. Pietro had looked like that as well…

"So, you've come at last?" the voice of the cloaked man hissed menacingly across the square. His voice sounded like the whisper of a snake – dangerous and treacherous. "You've finally accepted your fate?"

"It was always my fate to face you," the boy replied quietly, a sudden agony touching his eyes at the sudden comprehension of his destiny.

For a moment, complete silence reigned over the courtyard before _it_ started. A grating, heinous cackling filled the air and she felt herself shiver as the sound echoed right into the depths of her bones. It stopped as quickly as it started.

"You've finally realised then, boy, have you?" the man crowed sickeningly, his words ringing through the square. " _Neither can live while the other survives_."

"And that's why you're going to die," the boy replied calmly, simply as though he was merely reading a passage from a harmless book. But this wasn't a harmless book. And this was no mere conversation. No, this? This was the eye before the storm. "There are no more horcruxes, Tom. They're all gone. You're on your own," he continued evenly.

The man, if possible, became even paler as anger surged through his red eyes. "You will die, Harry Potter. There is no way that you can stop the rolling of time."

The boy shrugged, walking ever so slowly closer to the man and for the first time, she noticed that he was gripping something tightly in one of his hands. She stepped lightly forward, curious to see what it was. Was it a stick? Surely it couldn't be. Perhaps a staff or a baton of some kind? Yes… that would make better sense.

"You should know better anyone that time doesn't stop, Tom. Not for anyone."

"It has stopped for me," Tom jeered. "Even time, in its infinite wisdom, knows true power when it witnesses it."

The boy scoffed loudly, his calm façade disappearing in a wave of anger, hurt, and fury. "Only someone as conceited as you would say something like that," he spat, and he raised the elongated object in his hand threateningly towards Tom. She felt herself holding her breath as she saw Tom's hand twitch under the black cloth.

Out of the corner of her vision, she began to see nameless faces creep up to the scene playing the courtyard. A dark haired boy, an anguished redheaded girl, a scared brunette… For the second time, she found herself wanting to yell out to them, crying that they couldn't be here, because even though she didn't want to realise it, she already understood what was going to happen. She swallowed as she looked back to the determined boy and the psychopathic man.

At least one of them was going to have their blood spilled tonight and she was going to be able to do nothing. Instead, she was just another witness dabbling in a gruesome game that she had no right to be a part of.

"Harry!" one of the shadowy faces shrieked, and she jerked her head back to where the faceless figures were beginning to surround the two men, her heart beginning to thump wildly in her chest.

"Do it! Kill him!"

"You can do it, Harry!" someone else yelled.

"No!" screamed another, heartbreaking distress lining the words.

In seconds, the courtyard, which had been devoid of any sound just seconds beforehand, was filled with an ear splitting din. Even she, caught up in the sudden flow of hope, felt the brief urge to yell out the boy's name for support; it was quite clear who the 'bad man' was in this scenario. But she stayed silent and seconds later, the crowd became eerily silent as well.

Palpable tension was rising in the air, as she turned back to face the man and the boy. They were both facing each other now, much less distance between them, when it happened.

It was as though the entire moment had been recorded in slow motion and she saw both the man and the boy raise the sticks that were gripped in the hands. They shouted harsh, garbled words and a slight second later, a bright light shot from the sticks, one stick crackling with red sparks and the other spitting a poisonous green. Even from her position, she could feel the heat of the power that radiated from the two shoots of light as they leapt towards each other like two wild animals that were about to clash in battle.

And then the lights exploded.

* * *

Her hands shook uncontrollably, her breathing was rapid and shallow, and her light sleeping clothes were drenched with sweat as she shot up in her bed. To her left, the pretty modern bedside lamp that she had admired ever since she had arrived at the facility was in shards, the colourful fragments littered all around her room.

What was that? Why had she seen that?

She swung her legs out of her bed and placed her feet on the floor, barley noticing the glass piercing her skin in her haste to escape the confines of her bed covers.

 _Neither can live while the other survives._

She shivered involuntarily as she words from her dream reverberated around her brain.

While she had to admit that she had suffered from nightmares since Sokovia, none of them had ever been that intense. Nor, she added grimly, had they been scenes that her own imagination had created. She started pacing around her small apartment, already regretting her decision not to have stayed with Pietro. He had asked her, over and over again, whether she was sure with her decision to have a room all to herself. Whether or not she would be okay…

She felt the bitter, unwelcome feeling of tears prick her eyes. Was it too much to ask to simply have a good night's sleep? To have a room all to herself? To be independent?

"Wanda!" The sudden shout made her jump violently and she turned towards the door as though she were in a stupor, realising dully that someone was banging fiercely on it. "Wanda!" The second call sounded a little bit more desperate. "Open the door!"

But Wanda, surprising even herself, didn't open the door.

She rationally knew that she should open the door, reassure her brother that she was okay, but for the first time in her life, she didn't want to let him in despite the fact that she had just pined for him. She had relied on him for so long, so long in fact that she no longer knew what she would have been able to do without him. Would she have been able to survive all of those years?

Probably not.

But this, she thought selfishly, clenching her hands into fists as she looked at the broken glass covering the floor of her apartment, was her chance. Her chance to show not only herself, but also her new teammates, because they were surely standing outside with Pietro, that she could look after herself. That she could conquer her own demons. That she was going to be perfectly capable of doing the interrogation on that suspect that Maria had asked her to do. Pietro had looked after her for so long, but she needed to look after herself now.

"Wanda! Please open the door!" Pietro shouted again, and this time, she heard a note of terror in his voice that she hadn't heard in a long time.

"I…" she said, her voice still shaky from the aftermath of the nightmare, "I'm fine, Pietro. Leave me alone."

"I will bang this door down if you don't let me in," Pietro threatened.

"Leave me alone," Wanda repeated simply. "And besides," she walked slowly to the door and tapped the screen that allowed access, "you wouldn't be able to get in anyway." She pressed the 'lock' button. "I can handle this."

The words brought back a strange sensation of déjà vu as she recalled the same words that she had spoken to Pietro during the battle in Sokovia. She felt herself fill up with confidence. She had been able to handle all of those robots then without any help from her brother. Surely she would be able to beat these nightmares without him as well?

She lifted her head determinedly. She would be able to beat these nightmares without him.

* * *

Ginny splashed water on her face, breathing heavily as she looked at her pale, haggard face in the bathroom mirror. She brushed back some of her hair out of her face. First it had been her loss of control earlier that day and now it was that same nightmare that had haunted her for months again?

She splashed her face with the cold water again, relishing the icy feeling that it brought with it. That nightmare was one of her darkest, most painful memories and for the months after the war, it had haunted her dreams, making her relive every single moment of Harry's death over and over again. She wasn't sure why she had had it again tonight. Maybe it was just the stress of the day and the lack of use of her magic catching up with her, she mused, as she padded out of the bathroom and back into her bedroom.

"Wanda!"

The loud cry made Ginny jump in alarm and she glanced at the plain little clock that rested on her bedside table. It was only two in the morning. Why would someone be yelling Wanda's name? And in the corridor of all places? She stood in quiet contemplation next to her bed for a moment before simply deciding to stay in her bedroom. She didn't need to get wrapped up in all of that Avengers stuff. She was already in too deep as it was.

"Wanda! Please open the door!"

The desperate call echoed through her apartment again and Ginny hesitated ever so slightly. Merlin, if one of her brothers had sounded like that and had been shouting her name… She sighed and ran a hand through her messy hair as she got to her feet once again and walked somewhat reluctantly out of her bedroom and towards her apartment door, her original plan of staying hidden in her room fading into dust.

As she stepped into the cool corridor, she was almost taken aback by the numerous people that were standing across from her. Nearly all of the Avengers were standing in front of Wanda's door, she noted to herself as she slowly closed her own apartment door behind herself softly.

"What's going on?" she found herself asking.

Steve turned her, his normally stoic face slightly pinched with both concern and wariness. "It's Wanda. She started screaming a couple of minutes ago." He turned back towards the door where Pietro was still desperately banging on it and Ginny fought back the urge to break into hysterical laughter at the almost comical image. As if banging on her door was going to do anything.

"She released a huge amount of her energy as well," Steve added grimly. "All of the circuits around here have blown. I don't even want to imagine what the damage in her room is."

Ginny's eyes bugged slightly. All of the circuits had blown? Damage in her room? Just how powerful was this girl exactly? While she had read the file on Wanda Maximoff extensively and gathered that the unassuming brunette was both powerful and formidable, it only now dawned on her now just how little control Wanda had over her gifts. For God's sake…

"Yeah, I know right?" Steve said quietly, a flash of dark amusement jumping across his face at Ginny's aghast expression. "I thought that she had a good enough handle on her powers, but apparently they still need work."

For some reason, Ginny felt a wave of indignation build up in her chest at Steve's words, quickly replacing her earlier uncertainty.

"You can't ask her to have perfect control," she snapped to the soldier suddenly. "Especially if she was having a nightmare. Besides, she's only been here for about a week. To be honest, if it was a nightmare, then I'm surprised that she hasn't had more of them since she's been here. I mean, take a lot what she went through. What all of you went through!"

It was only when she stopped speaking that she realized just how silent the corridor had become and Ginny felt herself begin to flush as she realised that she was the focus of all of their attention.

She cleared her throat and looked at Pietro, who had thankfully stopped attempting to break the door down. "Let me see if I can try and get through to her."

To her right, Natasha snorted. "And just what do you think you know about nightmares?" she said coldly.

"And besides, I am her brother," Pietro added with a bitter laugh. He glared at Ginny frostily, his blue eyes bright in the darkness of the corridor. "You? You are just a stranger in a world that you're simply pretending to be a part of."

Ginny ignored him and the bite that came with his words and turned to Natasha slowly, her arms crossed defensively over her chest, as she met the assassin's icy gaze head on.

Everything, she wanted to say. I know everything there is to know about nightmares. But instead, all she could ground out was, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But it doesn't mean that I haven't dealt with people who have had serious nightmares and PTSD."

Natasha raised an eyebrow at her and Ginny sighed. She had admittedly dug herself into a hole with that one.

"Several of my brothers were in the army," she muttered tiredly. "When they came home… well, let's just say that it wasn't exactly pretty." It technically wasn't a lie, she decided to herself as she passed a defiant look around to each of the people gathered in front of Wanda's door. "So are you gonna give me a shot or not?"

No one replied, but she didn't miss the sidelong glances that several members of the Avengers passed to each other and she rolled her eyes.

"Alright then," she muttered, stalking to the door and shoving Pietro gracelessly out of the way. She only felt a little bit guilty when she felt his accusing stare bore into her back. "Thanks for the support." She rapped on the door.

"Hey Wanda," she said somewhat softly. If she really had had a nightmare, then loud taking would be the last thing that Wanda wanted. "It's Ginny." She paused. "Are you okay?"

There was silence on the other side of the door before a hesitant, excruciatingly soft, "Yes."

"Are you sure about that, Wanda? Because there are a lot of people out here that are really worried about you." Ginny's eyes landed on the red android. Even she couldn't mistake the concern that she saw in his eyes.

"I'm fine. Leave me alone."

"Why?" Ginny challenged. "Give me one good reason why I should leave you alone."

"Because I can handle this by myself," she replied defiantly. "I'm not a child!"

"No, you aren't a child, Wanda, and we're not trying to treat you like one. In fact," Ginny said, a hint of a smile touching her lips, "you're one of the toughest women that I've ever met. But no one can handle nightmares by themselves," she said softly, "so unfortunately, that's not really a good enough reason for us to leave."

"All I want is my… independence."

Ginny sighed internally. Independence. Now that was one thing that she could understand perfectly.

"Okay then," she exhaled, stepping away from the door. In her eyes, Wanda's reason was justified. "Well, that's a good enough reason in my books. Just one final thing before I leave. We're here for you, Wanda. All of us. So if you ever want to talk, then we'd be willing to listen."

Wanda didn't reply, but then and again, Ginny hadn't really expected her to.

"Right," she said tightly, turning to the small group of Avengers. "We're done here."

"Who are you to judge?" Pietro demanded. "You are not a doctor. In fact where are the doctors? Because last time I checked, you were not one!"

"No," Ginny said sharply, "but I am someone who can at least claim to understand what she's going through."

"How?" Pietro said scornfully. "You are just an arrogant secretary."

Ginny felt anger fill her veins as she felt the hairs on her arms rise up in as a burst of raw magic raced uncontrollably through her body.

"Don't you dare presume to know me," she hissed lowly, stepping deliberately, threateningly towards the silver haired speedster. "You don't know what I've seen, what I've had to do to get where I am today. So, don't you dare, don't you even think that you can claim to know me."

"Hey, how about we tone this down a little bit?" Steve interrupted carefully.

"That's probably a good idea," Ginny agreed grudgingly a tense moment later, still glaring daggers into Pietro's eyes. She forced herself to take a deep breath as she moved slowly away from Pietro and ignored the intrigued, concerned, and wary glances that were passed her way.

"Look," she said finally, pointedly disregarding Pietro, "you can all stay out here if you like, but Wanda sure as hell isn't going to open that door willingly. And if you do end up getting someone to force that door open, then I can promise you that you will lose her forever."

Just like she had lost her own family. Whenever she had wanted to be alone, they would intrude, whenever she would cry, they were there trying to fix it, to fix _her_ , whenever she would scream from the nightmares, they would bang her door down. They hadn't left her alone. They hadn't let her heal, and most importantly, they hadn't even tried to understand. They only saw themselves attempting to do a good deed for their poor, _weak_ sister. And so she'd cut them off. She hadn't liked it. In fact, the guilt was still something that tore at a little piece of her soul every single, bloody day, but it wasn't ever going to be a choice that she regretted.

And she didn't want that to happen to Wanda.

"So for God's sake, just leave her alone."

And with that, Ginny turned away and stalked back into her own apartment, the blood still thumping harshly through her body as she tried to reign in the anger and irritation that she could just barely control.

Maybe it was her anger clouding her mind and her judgement that led to her next wild decision or maybe it was just the desperation and the hopelessness that her conversation with several of the Avengers had instigated. Maybe it was none of those things. Maybe it was everything. Maybe it was everything that she had endured over the years. Her own insecurities, her guilt, her grief, her magic…

But whatever it was, it didn't stop her striding into her bedroom and to the cupboard at the very back of the small space. It didn't stop her taking out the charmed box, it didn't stop her removing the little case, and it certainly didn't stop her grasping the object that her hands had been aching to feel in years.

* * *

 **Mwahahaha! I can be evil! Lovely readers, this is my first cliffy for this story, so I hope that you enjoyed it and I promise, answers and character reactions will be coming in the next and following chapters!**

 **Thanks for all of the reviews, new followers, and new favourites that everyone has given this story. They all make my day!**

 **To Ande: I'm really glad that you're enjoying the story so far! I hope that you continue to do so :) As for Ginny's friends, well they will be making appearances in the future. I haven't written it in yet, so it's not set in stone, but it is in my mind and I will definitely be bringing other characters into it.**

 **Also, to the rest of all of you awesome people, if you have any questions or anything like that, then don't hesitate to message me and I will get in contact with you ASAP.**

 **I hope that you all have a lovely week and until next Sunday!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	9. Chapter 9

We are all so desperate to be understood, we forget to be understanding.

 _Beau Taplin_

* * *

Peace.

That's what she felt when her fingers touched the familiar wood of her beloved wand. It ran through her veins, diluting the pain and the frenzied anxiety that she had built up over the number of weeks, dulling the sharp edges and lack of control that she had lately seemed to possess.

The second thing that she felt was power. She felt it fill her up, causing her fingertips to tingle and buzz with unbidden magic. Had holding her wand always felt this way? She didn't know, but she did know that this was going to be a feeling that she was going to relish for all of the years to come.

A knock on the door startled her out of her reverie and she hastily shoved her wand back into the box and kicked it all crudely under her bed, her heart racing.

"Yes?" she called out as she scrambled to her feet, wiping her hair out of her face as she endeavoured to make herself look at least somewhat presentable.

"It's Wanda."

Ginny stopped in her tracks. Wanda? But it had only minutes since she had run back into her apartment like a coward. Surely the Avengers hadn't left just yet – they, and especially Pietro, were too stubborn to leave immediately. But she glanced at the clock on her wall just to be certain and her mouth dropped open. It had been a staggering three hours since she had entered the corridor to talk to Wanda. Three hours since she had nearly caused her own mini explosion in front of all of the Avengers, who probably hated her now more than ever. Merlin, how was that even possible? Surely she couldn't have been holding her wand and sitting on the floor for three hours without noticing? But apparently she had, she grumbled to herself, as she hesitantly made her way over to her door and wrenched it open.

"Hello," she said cautiously to the brunette, who was staring at her with a mixture of relief, respect, and wariness on her face.

"May I come in?" Wanda asked.

Ginny nodded, opening her door just slightly wider as she allowed her to enter the apartment. "Sure. So, what's up?"

Wanda paused. "I just wanted to thank you. For earlier. They never would have left otherwise."

"I, uh, it's not a big deal. Really."

"No, it is a big deal," Wanda said strongly. "You even got Pietro to listen to you, which is something that not a lot of people can do."

"He was being overbearing," Ginny replied simply. "And trust me, I know all about overwhelming brothers."

Wanda smiled a small smile. "They all respect you, you know," she said quietly. "The Avengers, I mean. Especially Pietro. But they're all very, how do you say, curious? Unsure about you?"

"Well, I don't know how they could be," Ginny said, shifting uncomfortably and awkwardly tucked her hands into her oversized t-shirt. "I'm just a normal person after all."

Wanda gave her a thoughtful look. "Now, I don't presume to know you," she said with a tiny grin as she recalled Ginny's own words from earlier, "and even though I've not known you very long, even I don't believe that you're a 'normal' person. Besides, in my opinion, no normal person would want a job like this or even get into an industry like this in the first place without being drawn or pushed into it."

"You might be right about that," Ginny conceded, a small smile of her own on her face. "But I've thought about quitting so many times that it isn't even funny anymore, so maybe I am normal."

Wanda shot her a sudden, wide-eyed expression. "Don't quit."

Ginny arched an eyebrow at Wanda's unexpected reaction. "I won't," she said bemusedly. Even though that was probably the sensible thing to do seeing as she had picked up her wand again, she thought to herself silently. "So, uh, do you want to talk about it? Your nightmare that is? I mean, I assume that that's why you're here, right?"

Wanda's face hardened at the mention of her nightmare. "It was… odd," she said finally. "It was a scene that I had never seen before. It wasn't from Sokovia or from when I was still a child. It was though it was a memory, but one that I've never had." She took a deep breath before raising her gaze to meet Ginny's, a determined glint flashing in her eyes. "I was in a courtyard."

 _I was in a courtyard._ Ginny froze as she repeated Wanda's words over in her mind. Earlier that night, she too had been standing in the courtyard of her deepest, darkest dream. A dream, a nightmare, a horrible reality that she had been sadistically forced to relive again.

"There was a boy," Wanda continued and Ginny slowly felt her stomach plummet to her feet. This wasn't possible. "At first, he looked lost, but then this man," Wanda shuddered, "he slithered out of the darkness, like he was a snake, and the boy… It was like he changed on the spot into a man. He suddenly looked so grim and determined…" She shook her head absently. "It was a terrifying dream. There was screaming, explosions…"

"I can imagine," Ginny murmured, her hands clenching tightly into tight fists by her sides. "I can imagine."

"You know," Wanda said suddenly, "you are very hard for me to read."

Ginny barely heard what Wanda said. How on earth had Wanda seen her darkest dream? She may not have any training in occlumency, but she thought that she had at least more control than that.

"Hard to read?" was all she replied vaguely, still very much focused on the fact that Wanda had quite literally seen her own dream. She wondered whether or not Wanda was suspicious…

Wanda nodded. "It is not hard for me to get into your head, but it is hard for me to navigate your thoughts."

Ginny paused. "Hard for you to navigate?"

"Yes," she said, tilting her head slightly. "Everything is a mess. It is like your thoughts are fractured and I cannot ever make sense of them. That is why I say that you are not like everyone else. It is like your thoughts are… protecting themselves without you knowing that you are protecting them. It is odd."

Well, that was good to know, Ginny decided. At least the brunette couldn't really read her thoughts, even though she could still enter her head. Merlin, she shivered slightly, she wouldn't want to know what would happen if Wanda could just look inside her head. Everything, all of her hard work, would be ruined and she would have to change jobs, her identity all over again.

"You are not surprised?"

Ginny jumped and gave Wanda a tense smile, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I, uh, yeah, a little bit," she said awkwardly. "I always thought that I was an open book though." A blatant lie, but Ginny hoped that she would get away with it.

Wanda sent her another quizzical look. "You are even more closed off than Natasha is."

"Oh." Ginny tried to sound surprised.

"You know, you should come to the party tonight. It would be nice to have you there."

Ginny looked at her in disbelief. "There's another one?" she said incredulously, grateful that the topic was no longer on herself. "But the last one was only a couple of days ago!"

Wanda snorted derisively. "This one is to celebrate Pietro's success at his interview that has apparently made him one of the most eligible bachelors."

"Well, in that case," Ginny scoffed, "I definitely won't be going then, because he and I aren't exactly on the best of terms right now."

Wanda smirked at her. "Oh, you don't have to worry about Pietro," she said mysteriously. "I'll talk to him, because for some reason, he always listens when you are involved." The brunette sighed. "Anyway, thank you. For getting rid of the others this morning. It was a relief when they finally left."

Ginny inclined her head. "No problem."

Wanda hesitated again before saying, "I have to go now. I have an interrogation to do today at another base."

"An interrogation, huh? Well, I wish you luck," Ginny said carefully.

"Thank you. And please come to the party. It would be nice to see you there."

And with that, Wanda exited the small apartment, leaving Ginny to stare thoughtfully after her before she padded back into her room and dug out her things out from under her bed once again.

* * *

Pietro paced restlessly around his room, the thoughts in his mind raging like a mob of angry bees. He hadn't been able to sleep ever since he had eventually left Wanda's door earlier that morning. Was Wanda okay? Why didn't she want to talk to him? They had always done everything together! Why was now any different? And how dare that secretary _replace_ him? His hands clenched into fists. Hell, she had even gotten Wanda to listen to her! She had even made the other Avengers listen! In fact, he had even glimpsed mild intrigue and respect in both Natasha's and Clint's gazes before they all left, something that he still had to earn from the seasoned assassins. And then, the woman had even had the audacity to go and yell at him for not understanding her! Well, how was he supposed to understand anything about her when she literally didn't say anything about herself? Him on the hand, well, everyone knew everything about him. Ever since the interview, his life had been all but an open book. And a part of him resented it.

His frustration finally got the better of him and he ended up punching a large, painful looking hole in the plasterboard of his room. He scowled to himself as he let his arm fall uselessly against his side, completely ignoring the sting of the raw skin on his knuckles. He didn't even feel a little bit better. But maybe…? Pietro raced over to the small coffee table, struck with sudden inspiration. He picked up his own tablet hastily from the table and unlocked the screen.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" he demanded somewhat rudely to the screen. "Where is Ginny Prewett?" If he could talk to the irritating secretary, then not only would he have someone to blame for his current frustration, but he would have someone to vent to.

"In her apartment, Mr. Maximoff," the cool voice of the A.I. responded.

"And is she alone?"

"Yes."

Pietro smirked to himself, quickly thanking the A.I. before he shot out of his room. She would never see him coming.

Mere seconds later, the silver haired speedster arrived in front of Ginny Prewett's apartment and started banging vigorously on the door, his head swirling with thoughts, devising a process. First, he would demand who the fuck she thought she was. Then, he would-

The door banged open, revealing the woman in question. Her arms were folded in annoyance and her cheeks were flushed, though with what, Pietro couldn't say. He immediately lunged for her and less than a second later, the redheaded secretary was slammed harshly up against one of the walls in her tiny apartment. For a moment, all he could feel was the warmth of her body pressed up against his own, her clean, crisp scent filling his nose. Strands of her red hair drifted around her face, her pulse raced beneath his agile fingers, her breath sounded in his ear, and Pietro gloated to himself. Good. She should be afraid. She, after all, was only a mere human who knew nothing about the world, and perhaps more importantly, knew absolutely nothing about his sister.

"What the hell?" she shrieked a second later, shoving him off of her. "That bloody hurt, you git!"

"Well," he glared, "maybe now you understand how it was like for me this morning. My sister…" he hesitated, "my sister and myself are close. We do everything together. So, why is it that she'll listen to you, an arrogant, English secretary, and not me?"

"Uh, I don't know?" Ginny replied sarcastically. "Maybe it was because I didn't want to embarrass her? Maybe it was because I understood?"

"You? Understand?" Pietro laughed bitterly, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu pass over him. He had said these same words earlier this morning… "You will never understand what we went through together. The endless pain, the constant feeling of betrayal, that rage." He shook his head slowly. "You? You will never understand what we went through. What _I_ went through to make sure that we stayed alive."

Ginny's face tightened, her eyes flashing. "Fine," she snapped, stepping forward, her scent unwillingly filling his nose once again. "Maybe I won't ever understand, but the least you could do is to try to understand what your sister is going through. She seems to be under the impression that you think that you own her! That you won't let her have or even earn her own independence!"

For a moment, Pietro was completely dumbfounded, his anger and feelings of resentment and hurt quickly dissipating disappearing in the swirl of confusion and… guilt? That was not the response that he had been expecting. Hell, it was not even a response that he had prepared for! Not that he had actually done any preparation in the first place, but that didn't really matter right now. Not when it was his sister whom they were talking about.

"You have talked to her?" Pietro asked curiously.  
Ginny simply arched an eyebrow at him. "Have _you_?" she retorted.

Pietro scowled at her and didn't say anything.

"Well, have you?" she repeated, her eyes piercing and indignant.

Pietro shifted uncomfortably. "No," he muttered.

"Well, I would do that if I were you, because in my experience, sisters hate smothering brothers."

Pietro looked affronted. "You think that I'm smothering her?"

She shrugged lightly, her arms folded defensively across her chest. "I dunno. Are you? And have you finished here? I mean, it's been an interesting talk and all that, but I would at least like to try and get some sleep before I have to officially 'get up' for work."

"Yes," Pietro said slowly. Was he really smothering his sister? He had always looked out for her. He had always made sure that she was safe, and happy… He had, after all, promised her that he would take care of her and that's exactly what he had done! Wanda had never reacted badly to any of that before though and he vaguely wondered what had caused the sudden change in her behaviour. Whatever the case, it seemed that he had a lot to think about regarding his sister. He cleared his throat, his eyes focusing once again on Ginny. Her hair was out, her realized suddenly. It was the first time that he had seen it flowing down her shoulders. It was just as pretty as he had imagined it. A curtain of fire…

"I am finished." A sudden thought occurred to him. "Are you coming to my party tonight?" he asked, the teasing smirk back on his face and he stepped forward, once again forcing her to back up slowly against the wall. He could already see her in his head, wearing a small, figure hugging black dress, her hair tumbling wildly down her back... "You know," he said softly, raising his hand as though he meant to trail it down one of her arms, "it didn't escape my notice how you hesitated earlier."

Ginny's eyes blazed angrily, her cheeks flushing an even brighter pink as she slapped his hand away barely a second later. Pietro simply smirked at her. He liked watching her get angry.

"Get out, you prat," she hissed. "And the day I hesitate when I'm pressed up against a bloody wall with _you_ is the day that hell freezes over."

Pietro couldn't stop smirking at her. "So are you coming to my party tonight?" he asked again.

"Get out, before I kick you out," Ginny growled.

He pouted pathetically. "Is that a 'no', then?"

"Oh, well done," she scoffed scathingly. "Now, get out."

"Why aren't you coming?"

She rolled her eyes. "Would you like a fist to the face instead?" she asked sweetly. "It would be my present from me to you if you ask me about this god-damned party more time."

Pietro held up his hands in a peace gesture in teasing amusement.

"Oh, come on, it'll be-"

It's safe to say that he never saw Ginny's promised fist to his face coming.

* * *

Ginny slumped to the floor of her bedroom, her wand grasped securely in her hand and her knuckles aching from the slightly sloppy but extremely satisfying punch that she had just given. It had been a while since she had punched something, let alone someone, like that and it had been a relief. Pietro had been annoying her for ages and then the way that he had burst into her room and then backed her up against the wall as though she were an animal? She scowled to herself. That had been the final straw. She hadn't been able to help herself. But even she couldn't ignore the memory of his body pressed against her own, his blue eyes a mess of pain and rage.

She sighed absently to herself as she stared at the variety of magical things that now littered her bedroom floor. She couldn't remember the last time that she had been grabbed like that, let alone by a guy – it wasn't like she had dated in the last three years. But then and again, after the war, dating had been the last thing on her mind and she frowned, glaring at her distorted reflection in the dusty cauldron. No, instead she had had much more important things to worry about. Like healing, something that had never really happened, overcoming her demons – that were still very much there – and giving herself a new life, which had been at least somewhat successful even though she was now working for the bloody Avengers, the Kings and Queens of the weirdest show on earth. Besides, it wasn't like she needed a man – and that included her brothers – to help her figure out her problems.

She sighed again, vaguely twirling the wand that was lying comfortably in her fingers. It felt so damn good to hold her wand again. So good in fact, that she didn't know why she had resisted holding it for so long. She could have saved herself all of that chaos, all of that longing… Of course, she hadn't actually hadn't performed any magic with her wand yet, but simply holding it was like a balm to her aching soul.

She distractedly wondered if she would be able to do the same magic that she had been able to do before and felt a wave of uncertainty at the simple thought. It had been a while after all and there were stories of wizards and witches completely losing touch with their magic after several years of constricting it… For a moment, she was tempted to cast a simple cleaning spell, just to show herself that she really was still capable of performing small spells.

She raised her wand slowly, her heart thumping wildly in her chest as the thought of performing magic for the first time in three years crossed her mind over and over again like a chant. She took a deep breath, forcing back the shiver that wanted to wrench itself through her body. Merlin, it was as though she could feel the word on the tip of her tongue. She opened her mouth, her eyes closing ever so briefly before-

No. She couldn't do it.

She opened her eyes slowly and lowered her wand, sudden disappointment flooding her very being. To her complete surprise, she even felt the unwelcome feeling of tears pricking the corners of her eyes and she blinked rapidly to try and get rid of them before they could start trickling down her cheeks.

Why couldn't she say the word? It was just a word. But at the same time, it was so much more than a word. _It was her very being_. Ever since she had been young, magic had dominated her life. It had been in everything that she had done, everything that she had seen. The photos, her toys, the household spells that her mother would cast around the house, the gnomes that were in their garden… She supposed that her father had always brought home a muggle item every now and again, but it simply wasn't the same.

Even when she had been trying to escape the influence of magic after the war, it had still unknowingly and unrelentingly pushed at her. She laughed bitterly, her hands clenching into fists in frustration. She had been so deluded. Here she was, thinking that over the last three years that she had managed to avoid magic and all of its traitorous traps, when in all actuality, all she had done was trap herself even further in its inescapable clutches.

Picking up her wand, yet her failure to say the spell, had made her see that now.

Why was she so weak? She had gone up against Tom Riddle in her first year and won. She had been a part of Dumbledore's Army. She had dealt with pain, loss, grief, and anger. She had seen her mother fall at the hand of Bellatrix Lestrange, before Ginny herself had defeated the evil bitch with nothing but rage and ruthlessness in her heart.

Why couldn't she overcome the demons in her own mind? Why couldn't she utter the words for a simple spell?

Ginny didn't know how long she sat there, staring listlessly at the items that had once been her entire life scattered around the floor. On her cauldron, she could see the dent where one of her classmates had dropped it accidentally. One of the many vials was glowing a faint green, the remnants of a luminescent potion still staining the sides of it ever so slightly. A very out-dated copy of the Daily Prophet with her whole family smiling and laughing from Egypt lay there as well, painfully reminding her of happier times.

A part of her wanted to go and burn it all so that she would never have to see it again. But she wasn't that crass. Those things, those precious things that she had in front of her, would never be able to come back if she burned them. Besides, they had cost her family and herself far too much for her to simply throw them out.

Her tablet started ringing loudly, the sound breaking through her thoughts and she suddenly became aware that she was actually supposed to be working. She panicked for a moment, realising that she was in no state to be seen, but she supposed that this time, she would let it go. She could just claim that she was sick and seeing as her eyes were still lined with unshed tears and her cheeks were still flushed an unhealthy red, she supposed that her lie would be entirely believable.

She pushed herself reluctantly to her feet, her legs tingling with pins and needles; it was the first time that she had moved in several hours, and trundled over to her bedside table. She glanced quickly at the caller I.D. and groaned as she pressed the 'accept' button.

"Maria," Ginny said curtly, brushing her hair back with a shaky hand as the brunette's face appeared on the screen. "What's up?"

"Where are you?" Maria replied irritably. "I needed those reports on my desk five minutes ago. And I need you to draw up the paperwork for Wanda, as well."

Wanda. Ginny had completely forgotten about the brunette's interrogation. "How'd it go?"

"We got the information we needed," Maria said briskly. "And by the way, why the hell do you look like you've just been asleep, Prewett?"

Ginny sighed. There was no way that she could have a sick day now, not if she had to draw up the paperwork for Wanda. Damn. "No reason," she said as clearly as she could manage. "I'll be at your office with the reports in ten minutes."

"Make it five," Maria barked. "Those are important."

Ginny nodded tersely before ending the call and walking over to her cupboard to pull out some work clothes.

Maybe she should go to Pietro's party. Even if it was only to get drunk to try and erase the shitty day that she was no doubt going to be having.

* * *

"So you've found nothing regarding the incident? No bombs were placed? There were no inhumans involved?"

The analyst standing in front of Maria didn't blink. "We didn't find anything, ma'am."

"Neither did we," the other person in the room, a doctor, said. "So either there was a sudden electrical fault in those lights or they just happened to blow up spontaneously. The first, while possible, is unlikely. And as for the second? Well, as we know, that's completely impossible."

Maria nodded slowly, accepting their final conclusion. She supposed that she hadn't expected anything other than what the agent had told her, but it was still frustrating to her anyway.

God, she hated having unresolved business, and this time – it looked like the kid was right – they were just going to have to wait and see if it happened again. And next time, if there were a next time, they would be ready.

"Dismissed," she said to the two agents finally. "And if you find anything, then bring it to me straight away."

"Yes, Director Hill," they both murmured, before turning around and heading back to their respective fields.

Maria leaned back in her chair as she watched them go.

* * *

 **Hello everyone! Here is the latest chapter and even though it is not a personal favourite of mine, I hope that you all enjoyed it! If any of you find any spelling or grammatical errors, then please let me know and I will fix them as soon as I am able. Also, if you guys have any ideas or thoughts or anything, then I would be glad to hear them. I'm always looking for inspiration!**

 **Thanks to all of the reviews, favourites, and follows! They all make my day!**

 **To the two guests: Thanks for your lovely reviews! I hope that you continue to enjoy the story!  
**

 **To aromatictruth: Thank you for your review! And yes, the dream sequence was my version of the final battle. Or rather, it was Ginny's memory of the final battle :)**

 **To Dalliene: I'm super glad that you enjoyed the last couple of updates! I'm trying to up the tension a little bit at the moment, so I'm glad to see that it's working! Anyway, thanks for your review!**

 **To E.J. Rudys: Thanks for your positive review and I hope that you keep enjoying the story!**

 **To I: Thanks for your uplifting review! I'm really glad that you're enjoying the story so far!**

 **I hope that you all have a lovely week! I'm writing my mock exams, so that should be fun, but what can I say? At least they're good revision for the finals!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	10. Chapter 10

You cannot find peace by avoiding life.

 _Virginia Woolf_

* * *

Ginny sighed at her reflection. It wasn't much, she decided looking at herself critically, but then and again, it wasn't like she was dressing to impress. After all, the only reason that she was going was because of the alcohol. And to get out of the bloody apartment. Slowly, she walked out of the bathroom and stared momentarily at the pile of bawdy yellow fabric that was still sitting on the floor. She should burn that disgusting dress, seeing as all it did was turn her into a dreadful version of an exotic bird.

The dress had belonged to one of her friends, and Ginny, not being one to turn away an unwanted article of clothing, had picked it up, hoping that she would one day find a use for it. It turned out though, that the only place where it really belonged was in an incinerator. Of course, if she was feeling ambitious enough, which she wasn't, then she supposed that she could have transfigured it into something better, but transfiguration had never been one of her strong subjects. Not to mention, there was the very obvious problem that she had yet to speak a spell.

With a scowl, she padded lightly into the kitchen and forced her thoughts away from the topic of magic. Now all she had to do was wait for Wanda. A part of her hoped that the brunette would show up early, if only for some fashion advice, but another part of her, a part of her that Ginny didn't really want to acknowledge, simply wanted Wanda to arrive for the purpose of talking to her.

Ever since Ginny had involved herself in this entire business of superheroes and billionaires, she had forced herself to stay distant, telling herself that she didn't need friends. That friends were a hindrance, a danger, a liability, _a responsibility_. For a while, that had certainly worked, but now? She snorted to herself. Well, it was safe to say that the mantra through which had managed to distance herself for so long was no longer very effective. In fact, the longer that she worked for the Avengers, the more she could feel herself, her ideals and concepts, falling apart at the seams. Ginny may not be a big part of their lives. In all honesty, she did everything that she could to ensure that she never really did become a big part of their lives, but there was something about them. The way that they would work, laugh, joke, and grieve together… There was a camaraderie that surrounded them, one that reminded Ginny fondly of the times when she too had had all of that and it made her want that again. It made her want to be a part of it.

A soft knocking at the door broke Ginny out of her thoughts and she glanced at her watch in slight surprise. If that was Wanda, then she was over twenty minutes early. Not that Ginny really minded though and so she walked over to the door and pulled it open, a small smile sitting on her face as the other girl beamed at her.

Wanda looked stunning. Her hair had been left down and cascaded gently around her shoulders, the ends curling softly. Her dark blue satin dress hung flatteringly at the tops of her knees and the simple black jacket that she was wearing finished off the look to make her appear both classy and carefree. The only thing that wasn't right, though, was the incredulous expression that was sitting on her face.

"Why are you not dressed yet?" she said finally and she stepped into the room, eyeing the limp yellow dress on the floor distastefully before looking back at Ginny. "You do know that we have to leave in less than half an hour, yes?"

"Yes," Ginny grumbled, closing the door behind Wanda. "It's just that I, uh, don't really have anything to wear except this ancient dress," she pointed to the splotchy yellow heap, "which looks absolutely hideous by the way, so I didn't bother putting anything else on except for a pair of jeans and this blouse. I thought it would be okay."

Wanda, for a couple of seconds, didn't say anything and Ginny watched her warily as the older girl pursed her lips together, folded her arms, and raked her gaze up and down Ginny's form.

"You and I are around the same size, I think," she mused, her eyes still assessing Ginny carefully, before her head snapped up, a triumphant, gleeful expression filling her face. "I will go and get some of my dresses and you can try them on."

Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but Wanda simply held up a hand to stop her. "And you will wear whatever it is I give you, because," she smirked mischievously, "I am not letting you go to the party dressed like that. This is a fancy event! You should look nice!"

Ginny rolled her eyes at Wanda's insistence, but couldn't help the slight smile that pulled at the edges of her mouth.

"And get out your make-up and hair things as well," she ordered. "Your hair looks dreadful."

This time, Ginny couldn't help the snort of laughter that bubbled to her lips as she walked into the bathroom obediently to grab her few beauty products.

* * *

Pietro was bored. In fact, he couldn't recall ever being so bored at a party, especially a party that was, in all actuality, meant for him. He was bored of the music, Stark's loud laughter, Clint's snide comments, and Romanoff's rigid silence. He was bored with the expensive, thick alcohol and the petty 'rich talk' of the high society guests. He was bored of the girls that kept coming up to him, simpering and already tipsy, as they giggled and asked for a photograph or an autograph or a dance. He glanced furtively at Steve, who was sitting stoically next to him at the bar. He didn't know how the older man did it and Steve, he mused, would have had it a lot worse, especially seeing as he had had to put up with crowds of adoring fans back in the 1940's as well as in the 21st century. He vaguely wondered what was worse, before settling barely a second later on the society of today. Social media made sure of that, he thought bitterly and he remembered searching his name on Google just the other day. To his horror, although the whole thing had originally been intended as a joke, he had discovered forums, stories, and fan groups all dedicated to him and his existence. It had been fucking scary and almost disgusting, especially when you started reading some of the comments that his most 'avid' fans posted. Pietro hoped that he would never meet women like that in his whole life.

"Pietro Maximoff?"

Hell, here was another one. Another beaming blonde done up to the nines in a sky blue, sparkly dress and whose teeth that were so white that they shone like a beacon under the dim lights. If they were any brighter, he thought savagely to himself as he downed his shot, then he would have to wear sunglasses. He snickered at the thought and finally turned to face the obnoxiously and elaborately dressed girl.

"That's me," he said resignedly.

She smiled an even wider smile. "Would you like to dance?" she asked coyly, placing a suggestive hand on his arm. Pietro snorted silently to himself. This one moved fast. "It just seems like you would be good at sort of thing."

He manoeuvred himself so that her hand fell off his arm and glared at his empty glass in front of him, blatantly ignoring the puckering blonde that was still standing next to him. "I'm waiting for someone," he answered bluntly.

"But I'm sure that I can keep you company until they arrive," she whined. "And," she fluttered her long eyelashes, "I have been told by many that I am a fantastic dancer."

Pietro was getting annoyed. "I'm sure that you are."

"So, won't you?"

"Won't I what?"

"Won't you dance with me?" A displeased note had entered the girl's voice.

"No."

The girl opened her mouth, no doubt to protest again, but this time, another voice filled the void where her high girlish one should have been.

"Pietro?"

Pietro had never been so grateful to see his sister in his entire life. "Wanda!" he exclaimed, and he shot a self-satisfied smirk in the direction of the blonde who now looked absolutely furious at being interrupted. "I was wondering where you were! You were supposed to arrive fifteen minutes ago."

Wanda smiled tightly at him and Pietro remembered dimly that they still weren't really talking. Not after what had happened with her earlier that morning and he felt a stab of unfamiliar hurt as he examined Wanda's closed expression. She hadn't looked at him like that in years. "There was traffic," she said simply. "And Ginny had a bit of a disaster."

"Ginny?" Pietro looked at his sister sharply, all thoughts of his argument with Wanda flying out of his head. He stood up. "Is she okay?"

Wanda rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her body. "She's fine. In fact, she decided, with a little bit of persuading, to come tonight."

Pietro perked up at the statement. "She's here?"

Wanda sighed in exasperation. "That's what I said, yes?"

"Then," Pietro tried to hide his impatience, "where is she?"

"Talking to the other guests," Wanda replied casually and Pietro's face fell slightly.

"Ginny?" the blonde, whom Pietro had totally forgotten about, asked suddenly. "I used to know a girl named Ginny."

Wanda raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Pietro before watching his sister turn her deliberately bored gaze on to the girl. For the slightest second, Pietro let himself pity the girl – being on Wanda's shit list was not exactly a place where you wanted to be. "And who are you?" she said scathingly.

"Jennifer Evamore," the girl replied superiorly, sounding overly pleased with herself and seemingly oblivious to Wanda's scorn. "Daughter of the fashion designer, John Evamore. He designed Tony's suit tonight, hence why I am here."

"Wonderful," Wanda said fake enthusiastically. "Now leave."

Jennifer's mouth dropped open, but Wanda jumped in before she could say anything more her eyes flashing dangerously.

"I don't remember inviting you to listen to the discussion that my brother and I were just having," she said coolly, "so leave. Pietro doesn't want to talk to you and neither do I."

Jennifer looked utterly outraged at Wanda's blunt manner but stomped away, her reluctance and anger clear with every step that she took. Pietro, however, couldn't be more delighted that the annoying thing had finally left.

"Finally," he grinned. "She had to be one of the worst ones so far."

Wanda simply glared at him and Pietro's grin slowly fell as he watched his sister walk to another area, an area that contained a very specific red android. Scowling, he watched as his sister shyly struck up a conversation with Vision – Wanda may be vying for her independence, but it didn't mean that he had to like it, especially when he saw a slight blush tinge her otherwise pale cheeks at something that Vision had said.

Pietro sighed to himself and reluctantly took his glare off of the android and started searching, looking for the person whom Wanda had unexpectedly brought with her. He was surprised that Ginny had come tonight. After all, she had never come to any of the other parties or gatherings at the facility. He wondered why she had chosen to come tonight of all nights. Maybe she had had a shitty day at work, something that Pietro could very much relate to. First, he had been replaced by Ginny, then she had punched him, then he had felt overwhelmingly guilty for having gone into Ginny's room at all and then training had left him even more bruised and battered than usual. But today, he had deserved every single punch that had come his way.

He raised his glass to his lips absentmindedly and that was when he saw her.

The vivacious redhead was standing somewhat awkwardly under the dim lighting, a champagne glass sitting uncomfortably in her hand. Her red hair had been twisted into a side bun that sat loosely on the side of her head and her dress… Hell, her dress. It was a stunning red colour, a colour that reminded him of an early sunrise, and it hugged her slight figure to a fault, outlining the smooth curves of her body. The sleeves were made of similarly coloured lace, stretching down to her petite wrists and hinting at the smooth skin that lay underneath the elegant weave. Simple earrings sat in her ears and an unusual necklace hung around her neck, making Pietro wonder what on earth it could mean to her. For an entire minute, Pietro felt like he couldn't breathe as he stared openly at the woman standing only metres away from him.

"I'll be back," Pietro said distractedly to Steve and he pushed himself out of his chair and started walking over to Ginny, absolutely determined that this was going to be the night that he got to her know her at least a little better. He straightened his white button up shirt and wiped his hands on his black slacks. Hell, if she simply smiled at him, he would call this night a success. He wondered what he would tell her. He would tell her that she was beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the room, maybe ask her how she was feeling, ask her whether or not she was enjoying the party… He would definitely have to apologise to her first though and he frowned at the thought. Apologising to others had never been on of his strong suits…

"Pietro Maximoff?"

Pietro nearly didn't hear the sound of his name until he was tapped lightly on the arm. Frustrated, he turned around to glare at the girl who had had the audacity to tap his arm, only to be faced with an elderly, shrewd looking man who was staring at him with hidden amusement. "Mr Maximoff," the man said formally, sticking his hand out, "my name is Felix Murray and I'm a reporter for the New York Times. Do you have any time to answer a few questions?"

Pietro sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking longingly back towards where Ginny was still standing. Hell, was everyone on a personal mission or something to stop him from getting to her? Because from this angle, it certainly looked like it. "Yes," he replied grudgingly. "Ask me anything you want."

It took only a few minutes, much to Pietro's relief, to answer Murray's questions, but by the time that he was finished, the striking redhead had disappeared into the throng of people.

* * *

The ambiance of the place was nice, she decided as she walked slowly around the floor. Music was playing softly in the background, the lights were neither dim nor starkly bright, and the large glass windows provided a spectacular view over New York City. Absently, she walked over to one of the polished sheets of glass and stared over the city. It wasn't exactly the most beautiful place, she decided, what with there still being scaffolding and cranes lining the buildings from the Battle of New York, but then and again, it wasn't like she had anything else to compare it to. Sure, she had been into London a few times, but she had never really seen the place, let alone from above like this. So for now, it would have to be what it was.

"Miss Prewett?"

Ginny turned around in surprise, her champagne nearly spilling over the sides of the glass in her haste to face the person who had called her name.

"Captain Rogers," she said in surprise, quickly recollecting herself as she took in the unforeseen appearance of the soldier. He cleaned up well, she noted privately as she took in his casual button up shirt and jeans. "And you don't need to call me Miss Prewett anymore. I think that we've worked together long enough that you can call me by my given name."

"In that case," Steve said, a small smile on his lips, "then you can do the same for me." He chuckled suddenly. "You know, I barely recognised you when you came in with Wanda. I don't think any of us did, actually. Tony was very surprised."

Ginny surprised herself by smiling ruefully. "It is a bit different from what I usually look like though, isn't it, and trust me, I'm still wondering whether it's a bit much but," she shrugged, "fashion is Wanda's department. Certainly not mine."

"It's good, you know," Steve commented lightly, "to see that Wanda's made a friend. In all honesty, none of us were really expecting it."

"Neither was I," Ginny replied simply. "So, did you want to ask me something?"

Steve grinned sheepishly at her. "Am I that obvious?"

Ginny smiled a tiny smile. "Just a little bit."

Steve paused. "It's about what happened with Wanda and I, _we_ ," he corrected, "wanted to know if what you said was true? What you said about your brother and PTSD?"

Ginny's expression turned sour. They still didn't believe her. That hurt. "Yes."

Steve nodded slowly. "I didn't know that your brothers served."

"I guess we all did," Ginny said grimly, her eyes now trained once again on the scattered array of lights that was New York City. "Can I tell you something?" she asked abruptly, not sure where the sudden desire to talk to him had come from. Maybe it simply came from Steve's honest presence, she thought to herself with a wry smirk.

"Go for it."

She took a deep breath and trained her eyes on the soldier. "You remind me of someone that I… used to know. He was strong, powerful, a leader in every sense of the word. He was also courageous, chivalrous and," she added with a small, pained smile, "had absolutely no sense of self-preservation, but that was him. That was what made him, well, _him_. He too was in an army. In fact, he was one of the people that everyone answered to despite his youth." Ginny paused, once again wondering why she was telling Steve all of this. She barely knew the man, but at the same time, there was a part of Ginny that knew that he would understand the most out of all of the people in this room – no one could understand war, except maybe the twins, better than Steve. She gulped down the rest of her champagne. "The anniversary of his death is in a few days," she said finally.

"I'm sorry," Steve said softly, understanding, not sympathy, lining his voice and Ginny felt relieved at the sound of it, making her firmly believe that telling that portion of the truth to Steve had been the right thing to do. These days, all people ever did was look at her with sympathetic words on their tongue or pity in their eyes and when they did that, then all Ginny wanted to do was scream. "He sounded like a good man."

Ginny nodded slowly. "He was." She laughed nervously and fiddled with the glass in her hands. "Sorry for telling you all of that, it's just that-"

"You wanted to get it off your chest," Steve finished for her. "Don't mention it. I can relate. And if you really want to know, then you remind me of someone I used to know as well." Steve chuckled distractedly, his gaze now also finding purchase in the view outside of the window. "Her name was Peggy. Peggy Carter and she too was from England. She fought a lot, for herself and for others, in the name of doing the right thing." His voice turned surprisingly bitter. "And now she has Alzheimer's and is confined to a hospital bed."

Ginny faltered in her reply, not sure at first what to say. While she had gone through her fair share of suffering, at least she hadn't had to watch from the sidelines as they deteriorated. "Well, I won't say that I understand what that's like, because I don't, but I am sorry."

And both of them fell into a sombre silence, both caught up by the vicious flow of memories from the past. Maybe, Ginny thought, Steve's story and her own weren't really all that different and she made a mental note to talk to each of the Avengers more often. Merlin, how she had changed. She had entered this job, unenthusiastic and resentful, yet here she was, making silent promises to talk more to each of the Avengers, becoming friends with Wanda Maximoff…

"So, you too looked like you were having a nice little chat," an unfamiliar voice broke in slyly, and Ginny jumped before realising a second later that it was the redheaded assassin. "I was almost sorry to cut in." She glanced at Ginny, the barest hint of surprise touching her features. "I almost didn't recognise you there, Prewett, but I do have to say that you do clean up well."

Steve sighed irritably and tossed back the last few dregs of champagne in his glass. "What do you want, Natasha."

"To drag you out on the floor and dance," she pouted. "I would ask Clint, but he's busy. So, may I have this dance?"

Steve rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway, allowing Natasha to tug him along. "It was nice talking to you," he said to Ginny seriously. "You know, if you ever need something like that again, then I'm always free."

Ginny nodded and gave him a small smile as he walked away and decided that in the future, that she would do exactly that; she had been too lonely and pathetic for far too long.

"Ginny!"

She sighed at the now familiar accent that called her name and wondered why so many people were talking to her tonight. "Pietro," she acknowledged reluctantly, before openly smirking at his appearance. "Nice make-up," she commented, taking in the heavy layer of concealer that was sitting on his face from where she had punched him earlier. "It suits you, I have to admit. You could have chosen a more appropriate colour, though."

Pietro scowled playfully. "It was a good punch I have to admit, but is it really that obvious? I thought that I had done a good job."

"Definitely obvious." She paused, turning to face him head on and eyed him carefully. "I haven't forgiven you yet, you know, for what you did earlier. It was rude and invasive and I didn't appreciate it. I can understand why were you angry with me, but you didn't have to shove me against a wall. Got it?"

Pietro shifted uncomfortably and he ran a hand through his messy hair. "That is actually why I wanted to come over here." He raised his eyes to her own and Ginny saw the sincerity and seriousness glimmering in the deep pools of blue and she felt a hint of surprise. She hadn't yet seen Pietro Maximoff look so solemn. And was that shame? "I wanted to apologise. What I did earlier was inexcusable and I shouldn't have done it. I should have just talked to you, instead of… instead of acting like an asshole. So, I'm sorry. I also wanted to tell you that I thought about what you said. About Wanda. And I'm going to talk to her. Maybe not right now, but soon. Definitely soon. And a lot of what you said, as much as I don't want to admit it, is true. So for that, I want to thank you." He paused earnestly. "Can I be forgiven?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow, but couldn't help the tiny smile that blossomed over her lips. "You're forgiven when I say that you're forgiven, but at least you apologised. A lot of guys wouldn't have actually have had the guts to do that, so thank you." She hesitated. "So, what else do you want?"

Pietro looked startled at the rapid change in conversation. "What do you mean, 'what else do I want'?"

"Well, the only reason you ever talk to me is because you want something, so what is it?"

Pietro, for the first time since she had met him, faltered in his reply and Ginny looked at him curiously. "To talk, I guess. In particular, though," he said finally, his voice once again regaining that cocky edge, "I wanted to tell you, that you look beautiful tonight."

Ginny nearly choked. That had escalated quickly.

"What? No one has ever told you that you are beautiful before?"

Not ever so brazenly, she thought privately to herself, her eyes watering slightly from her coughing fit and her cheeks flushing the colour of both her hair and her dress. Merlin, even Harry had never outright said that to her in plain words like Pietro had just done and she didn't know whether to be impressed or disbelieved at his statement.

"I, uh, thank you?" she said finally, still extremely flustered. Merlin, where was the waiter when you needed one? She really needed another drink. Preferably, a vodka martini. A dry vodka martini.

"It is the truth. You have to be one of the most beautiful women here tonight. So are you enjoying the party?"

Ginny shrugged, wishing desperately that her cheeks would stop flushing. She still couldn't believe that he had actually said that, but then and again, his both confident and arrogant reputation wasn't exactly for nothing. "It's different to what I'm used to, but then and again, this is the first party that I've been into in a long time, so I guess that my opinion doesn't really matter all that much."

"A long time? How long?" he asked curiously.

"A party? Um, give or take four years?" It wasn't as though her sixth year at Hogwarts had been fun.

"Four years? That is a while."

Ginny snorted amusedly. Maybe talking to Pietro, when he wasn't acting like a jerk, wasn't as bad as she had originally thought. "A bit pathetic, isn't it? But from what it looks like, I didn't miss out on much."

"I would say that you haven't really missed anything. You have been living in America for how long now?"

"Nearly three years."

"And before that, you were living in England?"

"Yep."

"Have you lived anywhere else?"

"No and why are you so interested anyway?"

Pietro shrugged. "You're our secretary yet none of us know anything about you. Even Stark's scans showed nothing and his scans, so he says, are the best in the world."

"Mr Maximoff?" a professionally dressed woman interrupted the conversation and out of the corner of her eyes, Ginny saw Pietro sigh in frustration. "I hate to interrupt, but do you have a moment?"

"I, uh, yes," Pietro muttered half-heartedly and he gave Ginny an apologetic look.

"I'll see you later, Pietro," Ginny said casually, looking at amused at his disgruntled face. "I should go and mingle anyway, but it was almost nice talking to you."

Pietro simply smirked back. "I'll come and find you later." And Ginny found herself flushing again as she walked away from him and the suspected reporter. Was he always so crass? Ginny supposed that he was.

Absently, she walked through the crowd, giving her glass to one of the waiters, before heading in the direction of one of the bathrooms that was hidden off to the side as she tried to force her embarrassment away. Luckily for her, the woman's bathroom was blissfully empty and wonderfully silent. But then and again, it wasn't really one of the main bathrooms on the floor either. If it had been, then Ginny had no doubt that it was full of women powdering their noses.

"Ginny Weasley?"

Ginny froze in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat at the foreign sound of her original last name. Obviously she hadn't been as alone as she had previously thought.

"Ginny Weasley?" the voice drawled. "That is you, right?"

Without thinking, she turned around tersely, a bright grin hastily plastered on her face. "You must have gotten mixed up with someone else, honey," she said with a smile, the deliberate American accent feeling unfamiliar on her tongue. "Because I don't know anyone here with that name, and trust me, I know everyone here." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't really the whole truth either.

"No," the blonde said slowly, a flash of recognition lighting up her blue eyes and Ginny felt the unwelcome feeling of dread build up in her body. This woman, this damned witch, had recognised her. "You're Ginny Weasley, aren't you? You defeated and killed Bellatrix Lestrange in one of the most famous duels to date. Not to mention," there was a note of challenge in her voice, as the blonde dared Ginny to defy her, "your Patronus charm is said to be one of the most powerful that this world has ever seen. I mean, I'm sure that that isn't true, but you know. The press likes to exaggerate these days. But still. It makes for a thrilling story."

Ginny pursed her lips. Going to this party tonight had been a mistake. "And who the hell are you then?" she asked, promptly abandoning the American accent. If the girl already knew who she was, then there was no use using it.

The girl pouted and arrogantly swept her golden hair over her shoulder. "No need to be impolite," she bristled, her gold earrings glinting under the harsh bathroom lighting. "But for your information, seeing as you seem to be so misinformed as to who I am, I'm Jennifer Evamore, the daughter of John Evamore, the famous designer. He designs all sorts of robes and even designed the quidditch gear that one of the leading quidditch teams in America wears." She picked delicately at her perfectly manicured nails. "My Daddy was invited to the party tonight, seeing as he also designs muggle suits, one of which Tony is wearing by the way, but he couldn't come. So I'm here instead."

Ginny withheld a scowl. Great. Not only did she have to meet a witch, but she also had to meet a witch with significant social power. In other words, a person who could and would screw everything up for someone like her.

"You know, I followed that whole war in the newspapers," she continued, still picking haughtily at her nails. "It sounded horrible. It really did. But like I said before, the papers always like to exaggerate information, so I'm sure that it wasn't as bad as it sounded. I mean, there were all of these reports of who had died etcetera, etcetera, and while I'm sure that it was all very sad, it just seems so, well, fake if you get what I'm saying." She sighed, seemingly oblivious of Ginny's growing anger. "It's a shame that that boy, what was his name again? Hmm… Potter. That's right! Harry Potter. Anyway, it's a shame that _he_ died, because he was so good-"

Less than a second later, Jennifer Evamore, in her fancy, priceless sky blue gown, was shoved brutally against the wall, Ginny's wand hovering dangerously under the blonde's chin. Fury surged through her veins, making everything appear brighter, sharper and more real than anything she had felt in the last couple of years. She hated people like this. People that pretended and assumed to know what she – what _they_ – had gone through. People that thought that they were so well-informed, but so naïve and absurdly innocent.

"How dare you," she said softly, her hard brown eyes glaring into the now petrified ones of Jennifer, her hand clenching around the handle of her wand. She took a deep breath, forcefully pushing down the raw magic that burned relentlessly through her blood. She was going to have to be careful. "How dare you, you arrogant, self important bitch. Do you know what it was like? The war?" she hissed, stepping even closer to Jennifer. The girl began to tremble and Ginny could see the beginning of terrified tears in her eyes, but Ginny didn't relent. "Do you know what it was like to slip on floors that were slick with blood? Do you know what it was like to see the blank, dead faces of your family? Do you know what it was like to feel indescribable pain? Do you?" Ginny pressed the tip of her wand slightly harder under Jennifer's shaking chin. " _Do you_?"

"M-my father," she stuttered pathetically, "h-he has power. You w-w-won't get away with this."

Ginny laughed harshly, the sound grating in her ears and she felt a twinge of guilt when she saw the girl in front of her flinch. "And you call yourself a witch," she scoffed derisively, but she sharply lowered her wand to her side, not missing Jennifer's visible breath of relief. "If this gets out, if you tell anyone that I was here, you will pay, Evamore. Understand?"

Jennifer nodded hurriedly, quickly pushing herself of the wall. "Yes," she squeaked, her eyes glinting nervously. "I understand. No one will know. Not a thing. I won't tell anybody. Promise."

Ginny nodded once, somewhat satisfied that Jennifer would do as she was told, and turned around to leave the bathroom. But that was her mistake, a mistake, had it still been war times, would have cost her her life.

She almost didn't see the spell heading towards her until it was nearly too late. For a moment, time slowed down and Ginny could almost feel the adrenaline as it was released into her veins, the crackling ball of magic surging ever closer towards her. A split second later, the moment ended and the spell smashed forcefully into Ginny's instinctive shield and she found herself smirking delightedly to herself. It appeared that despite her years of denying her the only thing that the world had ever given her, she still had it. She was still just as capable as she once had been and the realisation was both satisfying and relieving. But now wasn't the time to dwell on it and another second later, Ginny had grabbed her own wand out of her purse and wordlessly disarmed the blonde witch, who was now gaping ungainly at her.

"Sorry about this," Ginny said simply, stopping any form of retaliation, before stunning the suddenly fearful Jennifer Evamore into a heap of unconsciousness and blue, glittery satin. For a brief moment, Ginny just stood in stock-still silence, staring blankly at the girl's limp form on the bathroom floor before she found herself stumbling against the wall for support, her breath coming in short gasps. Her wand clattered noisily to the bathroom floor and she reached for its handle unsteadily. The second her fingers found security in the handle, she grasped like it was a lifeline, like it was the only reason that she was still grounded. She waved it shakily at the door, effectively locking it to any unwanted visitors and sank to the cold tiles. Absently, she realised that tears were dripping down her cheeks and she wiped at them, vainly hoping that they hadn't ruined her make-up.

She placed her head on her knees. God, she should have never come tonight. She should have never allowed Wanda to persuade her to come. She should have stayed back in her apartment, doing the work that never seemed to end.

Ginny didn't know how long she sat like that, staring listlessly at nothing, before she forced herself to get up and firmly told herself to pull herself together. She got to her feet slowly and stepped unevenly over to Jennifer's unconscious form, kneeling down next to her. Her fingers grasped the handle of her wand even tighter as she hesitantly placed her wand at Jennifer's temple, steeling herself for what she had to do next.

Memory charms had always been fickle, difficult things and she would need absolute concentration to make sure that she didn't stuff this up. Because even though Evamore was a bitch, she didn't deserve to have all of her memories, her entire life, taken from her with a single word. With a deep breath, Ginny muttered a slightly more complex version of the infamous spell and delicately erased Jennifer's memories of Ginny. It was odd, being in someone else's mind and Ginny decidedly didn't like it. Not one bit. There were webs of emotions and memories all tangled together in a scary mess that she knew would implode unless she performed the spell properly. Gingerly, she sifted through each of the memories, only vanishing the ones of herself and what felt like an hour later, she had completely removed any trace of herself from the young woman's mind. Whether or not it was successful, however, was another matter entirely and Ginny wouldn't know if she had done the spell correctly until she had woken up.

A part of her was tempted to just simply awaken her by magic, but if she did so, then she would run the risk of being discovered again. Besides, she had only erased the memories of herself for tonight, not for every other time. If she were smart, she would have left already, but she didn't want to leave, because a part of her wanted to make sure that Jennifer Evamore was still all right.

She sighed irritably and gave in, pointing her wand at the girl and whispering the spell. A mere second later, Jennifer's eyes opened and blinked slowly.

"You look familiar," she said suddenly. "Do I know you? And why the fuck am I on the bathroom floor? I mean, I know that I didn't eat anything earlier because of the party and I wanted to look good in my dress, but-"

Ginny stopped listening.

She hadn't realised how heavy the air inside the bathroom was until she stepped outside it, suddenly a gasping, sweaty, and dizzy mess. She breathed in deeply through her nose and prayed that her racing heart would calm down and she felt her back slam against one of the walls. Was this it? Was this what happened now when she used magic? Had her body gotten so unused to it that she made herself sick when she did it? Or was it something else. Something else with the mind… Ginny was very aware that after the war, she had suffered from the disease that muggles liked to call PTSD. She had never gotten treatment for it, instead deciding to look for help by herself online and in books and a part of her still wondered as to whether or not she had really beaten it. She looked at her shivering hands. They always shook like that after a nightmare, a panic attack… But she hadn't had one of those in years! Could her wand and the magic that she had just performed really have caused all of this? Ginny was pretty sure that it had the capacity to do so.

"Ginny! I was looking fo- What's wrong?"

"I, uh," Ginny gulped, and pushed herself away from the comfort and steadiness of the wall, trying to appear more collected than she really was. "I think I'm getting ill. I need to leave. Now, if that's possible."

Wanda nodded, concern on her face. "I'll take you downstairs and organise a car. Do you want me to come back to the facility with you?"

Ginny smiled weakly and waved an indifferent hand. "No, no, it's fine. Keep enjoying the party! I know that you often don't get to leave the facility except for business, so enjoy it while you can."

Wanda looked at her doubtfully, hovering uncertainly by her side. "Only if you're sure…"

"I am," Ginny said firmly.

"You are not leaving because of Pietro, are you?" Wanda asked, still looking at Ginny doubtfully. "Because Pietro doesn't say that a woman is beautiful for no reason. He meant it."

Ginny grimaced slightly. Merlin, her head was killing her. "And how'd you find out about that so fast?"

Wanda smiled and tapped her head. "I do not make it my purpose in life to know the secrets of others, but Pietro?" She shook her head affectionately as they walked around a corner to the lifts. "We are in tune with one another and so I often hear his thoughts. They are so loud!"

"Well, he is a loud person."

"I am not," the man in question defended loudly, zipping around the corner and stopping right in front of them with a disarming smile. "Well, maybe I am." He gave them both a questioning look, his eyes lingering a little longer on Ginny's pale form. "Where are you going?" he complained a second later. "It is still so early."

"I'm leaving," Ginny said bluntly. "I'm ill, so I'm heading back."

"Alone?"

Ginny sighed and closed her eyes in exasperation. "Yes."

"Then I will go with you."

"Not necessary. Besides, whatever it is that I've been unlucky enough to catch could infect you as well."  
Pietro smirked at her. "Did you not read my file? I have an increased metabolism and increased immunity!"

"You've made your point," Ginny grumbled. "But this is your party, is it not? I don't think it would be very polite of you if you were to just pack up and leave."

Pietro shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yes," he conceded, "but I am bored. The only people that talk to me are Clint, reporters, and annoying women."

Ginny rolled her eyes exasperatedly before quickly realising that that was a bad idea. Her vision blackened around the edges and she found herself leaning heavily against a wall for what had to be the third time that evening. "Oh bloody hell," she murmured to herself as she waited for her vision to come back into focus, but to her annoyance, it stayed blurry and fuzzy.

Her hands were still shaking.

"Here, I'll take you back to facility."

Ginny wanted to protest, but she found her voice being lost in the more vehement refusals of both Pietro and Wanda.

"Here. Let me take this." A gentle hand removed her purse from her shoulder and she opened her mouth to object – her wand was in there. "I'll carry it for you. I won't lose it, I promise." And she felt a warm hand encircle her upper arm and another loop firmly and securely around her waist, pushing her into the lift. "Also, if you're going to pass out, then at least tell me beforehand," he whispered in her ear, "so that I can catch you before you hit the ground."

"I don't need catching," she found herself slurring back. "Just let me fall."

* * *

 **Hello!**

 **Thanks for all of the new follows and favourites and reviews this week! They all make brighten up my day! Also, special thanks to the guest reviewers for your reviews! They're very appreciated!**

 **Anyway, I hope that you all have a wonderful week and I shall post again next Sunday :)**

 **HauntedCinders**


	11. Chapter 11

Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.

 _Les Misérables_

* * *

 _"_ _No!" Ginny screamed, the anguish in her voice filling every corner of the Great Hall, touching everyone who had the misfortune of hearing such a wrenching sound. "No!"_

 _"_ _Aw? Are you sad?" Bellatrix pouted, a maniacal gleam in her eyes as she stepped carelessly over the lifeless body of Molly Weasley. "Are you sad now that your mummy's gone?"_

 _Ginny swallowed back a sob and looked at Bellatrix Lestrange with a mixture of grief and rage, tears already making their way down her dirty, bloody cheeks. Surely this wasn't real. Surely this was just another nightmare. Because her mother couldn't have just died. There was no way that her mum was dead. There was no way that her mum was dead._

 _"_ _How dare you," she whispered, her voice shaking uncontrollably. "How dare you."_

 _Behind her, she heard George telling her to stop whatever it was that she was doing, but Ginny, for once in her life, didn't care what her brother had to say and she found herself gripping her wand even tighter than she ever had done before as she stepped audaciously forward. She knew that she wasn't acting rashly, but she didn't care anymore. She didn't care._

 _"_ _You should listen to your brother, blood-traitor," Bellatrix hissed and she flung a curse towards Ginny, a curse that she easily and instinctively blocked. "You wouldn't want to end up like mummy, now would you? But then and again," she drawled, "you would look much better dead than alive, I have to say."_

 _"_ _Ginny?" George warned her from behind. "Whatever it is you're thinking of doing, don't do it."_

 _Ginny snarled at her brother, telling him to leave her alone, her veins now filled with adrenaline and earth shattering pain. He knew her too well. A second later, she turned to face Bellatrix, her wand raised threateningly._

 _The duel was fierce, with an array of colours viciously surging towards each other and both witches twirling and slashing their wands ruthlessly through the air. The Great Hall was alive with heat, electricity and pure, undulated magic as the two women duelled; there was no question that only one would emerge alive from this. Around them, a crowd began to build and the hall fell eerily silent, with only the whistling of the crackling curses filling the dead air. Even Bellatrix, who was infamous for her constant cackling and jeering, was darkly silent as she began to realise that the girl that she was duelling was no amateur._

 _Sweat trailed down Ginny's body, making her ragged clothing stick uncomfortably to her skin. Her eyes were bright with her open desire for revenge and her hair hung ethereally around her face, but her grip on her wand never failed. In fact, the elegant, crafted piece of wood seemed to rejoice under the newfound power and accuracy in which it was being wielded._

 _Ginny had never felt so alive, so full of raw power that it almost scared her as she flicked a particularly nasty curse towards Bellatrix. It was almost bordering on being uncontrollable, but Ginny gritted her teeth. She had to control it. She had to control it for her mother and Fred and everyone else who was fighting in this sickening, pointless war._

 _And that was when one of her spells smashed through Bellatrix's shield charm._

 _For the briefest second, the insane witch paused, a look of incredulousness passing over her face as she stood, completely vulnerable, for the first time all evening. Ginny didn't waste the opportunity._

 _With renewed vigour pulsing through her body, she started shooting hex after hex, putting Bellatrix on the defensive as she attempted to fend off Ginny's array of curses and jinxes with panicked shield charms. Ginny's wand arm blurred as her spells circled in arcs, racing towards Bellatrix's scowling face._

 _"_ _You'll regret that, bitch!" Bellatrix screamed and Ginny cried out in pain as a curse shot directly past her face, cutting into her skin and singing several of her hairs. Another spell shot into her leg and Ginny gasped again, a burning ache travelling through her thigh; she could feel the blood seeping through the ratty fabric of her jeans. "Did that hurt, blood traitor?" Bellatrix continued cruelly. "Do you want your mummy? Are you so wea-"_

 _And Bellatrix exploded in a shower of ash, Ginny's control finally giving out in a pulse of swirling shadows and lights._

* * *

 _In the middle of the courtyard, everything ended. In the middle of the courtyard, Voldemort fell. In the middle of the courtyard, a hero, a brother, a friend, a lover died, collapsing limply to the ground. Around her, the air burst into screams of relief and triumph._

 _But this was no triumph. It was a tragedy and Ginny found herself falling to her knees as those close to her rejoiced._

* * *

 _In her hands, Ginny was twisting the stem of the three roses harshly until her dad quietly told her to stop what she was doing. Reluctantly, Ginny stopped winding the thorny stalks into knots and let the flowers hang by her side. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be in a place that surrounded by such death and she shivered subconsciously as the group passed grave after grave until they reached the ones belonging to their own family._

Molly Weasley _, one of the headstones read in neat script._ 30th October 1949 – 2nd May 1998. Beloved wife, friend, and mother. May her never-ending love and selflessness live on forever in our hearts. _Ginny silently moved her gaze over to the other gravestone._ Fred Weasley. _The plain carving of the letters didn't seem to do his lively personality justice at all._ 1st April 1978 – 2nd May 1998. A beloved twin, son, and brother. May we never forget his sacrifice.

 _Ginny choked back a sob as her eyes flicked over the two unceremonious graves. She couldn't believe that there were two of her dearest family members lying under those two, awful headstones. Surely it wasn't real._

 _But it was. It was devastatingly, horrifyingly real._

* * *

 _"_ _Ginny, I really don't think that that's a good idea," her father said quietly. "I mean, we've only just begun to accept their," he choked over their names, "deaths. We need you here. Where we can keep you safe."_

 _"_ _But I am safe, dad!" Ginny said in frustration, harshly wrenching herself out of her father's gentle grip. "For the last few weeks, all we've been doing is sitting pathetically around the house! Do you think that mum would have wanted that? What about Fred? He would be horrified to see that we're just sitting here, drowning in our grief!"_

 _Her father's face tightened. "And that, Ginny, is why I'm saying no. You're distraught. You're not thinking clearly. You don't know what you want."_

 _"_ _But Dad!"_

 _"_ _No buts," he told her grimly. "You're staying here until I say otherwise. Besides, Death Eaters are still being rounded up and I don't want you..." he shuddered, "I don't want you to leave. Not yet."_

 _"_ _So what? You're just conveniently forgetting about the fact that I killed Bellatrix Lestrange? I am capable of protecting myself, Dad! I know what I'm doing!"_

 _"_ _You're staying here, Ginny. That's final."_

 _Her father left the room._

 _"_ _You know," Ron said hesitantly, "dad's right. You shouldn't leave just yet. You're,_ we're _, all still healing. I know that you want to be an auror, but that position will wait for you."_

 _"_ _That's right, Gin," Charlie said quietly. "We need to stick together. Otherwise we're just all going to fall apart at the seams."_

 _"_ _But all of you are out working and studying and moving on! Why won't you let me do the same? Don't I deserve at least that much?"_

 _Charlie sighed and stood up from his spot on the sofa. "We're not the enemy here, Ginny."_

 _Ginny glared at her brothers and laughed bitterly. "You talk about sticking together, but you and your uncompromising ways are just ripping deeper rifts."_

* * *

 _"_ _I'm not a fragile doll!" Ginny grumbled to Hermione. "I suffered just as much as they did! Why won't they let me do anything? You know, they're actually keeping me under house arrest lest I try something."_

 _"And will you? Try something, I mean?"_

 _Ginny shrugged violently. "Yes. No. Maybe. Ugh. I don't know! But what I do know is that they're shutting me in a box and I don't know how much longer I can take it!"_

 _Hermione sighed and shut her book, placing it on her lap. "I'll talk to Ron. Maybe he can say something."_

 _"_ _Ron?" Ginny spat. "He's the worst out of all of them. Merlin, every single time something happens, like I wake up screaming or crying or I drop a bloody bowl, he gives me this disappointed, worried look, like I'm proving to him just how broken I really am. Well, of course I'm bloody broken! We all are! But people heal in different ways and they don't seem to understand that! They need peace, but I need distractions!"_

 _"_ _Have you tried talking to them?"_

 _"_ _Yes. Numerous times," Ginny muttered, finally curling up in one the one of the chairs. "But they don't seem to get it. For me to heal, I need to be busy. I need to work. But they don't seem to recognise that." Ginny paused. "They're stifling me, Hermione," she said quietly. "They're stifling me and I don't know what to do anymore."_

* * *

 _Ginny haphazardly packed her things in a ragged suitcase with a carefully placed undetectable extension charm cast on it. In went her potions kit, several books on muggles, a couple of clothes, and her wand. A couple of useful potions were thrown in on second thought as well. Just in case, she told herself._

 _She crept downstairs, avoiding the creaky steps, her heart pumping wildly in her chest. She couldn't believe that she was doing this. Merlin, if someone had asked her a year ago as to whether or not she would have ever run away from home, Ginny would have said a very firm, 'no.' Yet here she was, escaping her own house like a thief in the night. She reached the bottom step and breathed a sigh of relief, glad that one of the hardest parts had finished._

 _Now all she had to do was reach the International Floo Station without being detected._

* * *

 _The air was heavy and warm as she stepped out of the fireplace, the odd, burning scent of floo powder still lingering in her nose. Her suitcase slipped slightly in her clammy grip and she felt, for the first time that day, the inklings of nervousness. She looked reluctantly back at the blackened hearth, conjuring the images of her brothers in her head. It wasn't too late to go back. She could make her family understand. She was sure of it. But then and again… her expression hardened. They wouldn't understand, she thought to herself bitterly. They would never be able to understand. They were too stuck in their ways. They wouldn't be able to get past of their views of her being the 'damaged, broken little sister.'_

 _No. She had to stay for her own sanity, even if she had to rip herself apart at the very seams. She raised her gaze grimly and forced herself to stand up just that little bit straighter as she strode purposefully away from the lure of the fireplace. But nevertheless, the aghast expressions of her brothers and her father still haunted her thoughts with every step she took. Her father would never forgive her. Not after what happened to mum. She felt her blank expression slip at the fresh memory of her mother, lying listlessly, lifelessly on the cold stone floor and bit back a sob before biting her lip fiercely, forcing the tears to stay within the confines of her eyes. She was in America now and there were no friends here, no possible relatives that she could contact. It suddenly dawned on Ginny just how utterly alone she was. Of course, she knew that other witches and wizards had done the same after the war; she was hardly the first to leave the country after the abundant celebrations, but it didn't change the fact that she truly was alone for the first time in her life. She was going to have to be strong. Weakness was not going to be allowed._

 _She took a deep breath and pressed forward, pushing the other witches and wizards that were hurrying around the station out of her peripheral vision, and focused instead on finding the witch who had said would meet her here. Ms Kenna Optum. According to various and somewhat shady sources, Kenna Optum was the witch to go to if one needed to create a new, reliable identity. In other words, she was someone that Ginny needed desperately, hence why she had contacted the infamous witch as soon as she had realized that she needed to leave. After all, when her brothers realized that she had left, they would do anything and everything in their power to get her back and the last thing she wanted, was to be dragged back to a place that was filled with the memories of the dead._

 _She knew she was being a coward, that she was essentially defying her proud, Gryffindor nature, but she couldn't help it anymore. Throughout the war, she had been so strong, never being allowed to show her fear and her doubt. She had been a part of the DA, she had fought for those who needed to be fought for, she had forced herself not to give up, she had given hope to those who wanted it, and she had done what needed to be done. But now? Now, it was her time to be the weak one. It was her time to be selfish._

 _"_ _Miss Weasley?"_

 _The sultry tone of the distinctly feminine voice made Ginny stop slowly in her tracks, her heart started beating slightly faster at the sound. She cursed inwardly to herself, forcing herself to calm down._

 _"_ _Who wants to know?" she asked carefully, her eyes flicking warily over a dark-clothed figure._

 _The witch slunk out of the shadows and into the harsh lighting that graced the hall of the New York International Floo Station, a smirk sitting on her pretty face. Ginny hadn't expected her to be so young, but then and again, cosmetic spells were improving everyday._

 _"_ _Is that a confirmation of who you truly are then?" she drawled slowly, her eyes raking over Ginny's still form._

 _Ginny nodded once, her lips pressed in a tight line as she too made her own assessment of the elegant witch standing in front of her. Tall, stunningly beautiful, slim, eerily perfect... A woman, even though she was her only ticket to staying anonymous, who was in no way, shape, or form to be trusted._

 _"_ _I have to say, you don't look very well, my dear," the witch continued, as she stepped forward. "That dreadful war obviously took its toll on you. I mean, look at that sallow skin of yours!" She paused. "You wouldn't catch me doing something like that, risking my health and my beauty. But you know. People these days."_

 _Ginny's grip on her suitcase tightened, but she didn't deign to respond to her veiled insult. "And I assume that you must be Kenna Optum." She spat the last two words, and Optum smirked at her vehemence._

 _The witch laughed, a high pitched, girly cackle that had Ginny's hairs standing on end as the sound slithered its way through her body. "You guess correctly, my dear. Now, seeing as you're new here and that you don't really understand much about anything, I am, as we agreed, going to let your payment slide just this once. Because, despite the fact that I completely disagree with the war, we witches have to stick together. It's a hard world out there, after all."_

 _Ginny inclined her head. "Very kind of you," she said stiffly._

 _Optum smirked at her. "So, onto business, and don't worry," she said, waving a manicured hand casually, "no one here can hear us and it won't take long." She stared at Ginny critically. "My sources also tell me that you want the complete wash. No more association with the wizarding world?"_

 _"_ _None."_

 _Optum raised a perfect eyebrow. "Are you sure about that? It seems like an awfully big decision for a girl who's only just come of age."_

 _Ginny glared at Optum. "I am."_

 _Optum grinned, the smile contorting her face as she dug out her wand, several sheets of parchment, and a muggle contraption that Ginny believed was called a laptop. "Let's get started then," she said, conjuring two chairs and a table in the middle of the hall and Ginny vaguely wondered what kind of spell Optum had cast to make them appear so invisible to the rest of the people in the hall. "Now, I've already created most of your knew profile. Your birthday, however, I kept the same in accordance to your wishes. The only thing I need, actually, is your new name. I presume you already have one in mind?"_

 _Ginny barely hesitated in her reply. "Ginny Prewett."_

 _Optum shot her a look of disgust. "I thought that Bellatrix's killer would have been more imaginative than that."_

 _"_ _And I thought that you were supposed to be more professional than what you seem to be," Ginny replied coldly, burying the impact of Optum's ugly words deep inside her. She would think about them later._

 _Optum simply sighed and wrote the name on a piece of paper. "Fine. But don't blame me if you get discovered, because taking your mother's maiden name and keeping your own name really isn't all that discrete, my dear."_

 _Ginny didn't say anything as the witch typed something into the laptop._

 _"_ _Awfully useful things, these laptops," Optum said cheerfully, her fingers moving across the keys fluidly. "They work brilliantly with magic as well, by the way. There. Now all of your new records are officially in the system. So, as far as the muggle government is concerned, if you want to get a job, which I assume you want to do, then you should pass all of their requirements without any noticeable problems."_

 _"_ _And the parchment?" Ginny asked, gesturing to the large lump of tied papers._

 _Optum picked up the stack of parchment and dumped them into Ginny's arms. "These are all of your written records, including your new social security number, and I suggest that you learn it all off by heart as soon as you can manage. Also, I would learn about muggle technology as soon as you are able and… oh, get yourself some health insurance as well. You'll both want and need that." The witch stood up from the table, her chair vanishing into thin air. "I don't need to remind you, Miss_ Prewett _, that it is up to you as to what you choose to do with your new identity."_

 _Ginny stood up as well. "What about a house?" she requested sharply. "You promised me that you would find me somewhere to live."_

 _Optum simply simpered condescendingly. "Did I? I don't recall such a promise. However, if you do wish for me to organise that too, then you'll have to pay, and to be honest," she leaned forward threateningly, "I don't really think that you can afford my services." She sneered. "It's lucky that I did the hard part for free, but you're on your own now," she spat. She vanished the table and Ginny's chair. "Anything and everything else comes at a price, so if I were you, I would just be pretty damned grateful that you don't have to worry about your identity anymore."_

 _Ginny's entire body stiffened and Optum smiled in scornful triumph._

 _"_ _Good luck, Miss Prewett. You're going to need it." And a second later, a loud popping sound rang through the air and Kenna Optum disappeared, leaving the seventeen year old witch standing alone in the otherwise busy hall._

* * *

 _"_ _You look a little bit young to be doing this job. Are you sure that you really want this?"_

 _Ginny sat up even straighter in her chair, determination and steel in her eyes. "I'm seventeen. But yes, I want this."_

 _"_ _Well, all right then," Pepper said reluctantly. "You definitely performed the best out of all of the candidates, but if you have any problems or if you find it all too much, then let me know, okay?"_

 _"_ _Absolutely," Ginny said, allowing a small smile to grace her lips for the first time during the private meeting. "So when do I start?"_

 _Pepper looked slightly startled. "Well, I suppose that you could start now if you really want to, but I don't expect that."_

 _Ginny shook her head though and said, "No, starting now would be absolutely perfect if that's okay with you."_

 _Pepper nodded slowly. "In that case then," she said, handing a stack of folders into Ginny's arms, "I need you to take these down to the third floor to a Mr Fraddly. He's located in room 3046."_

* * *

"Is she…?" Pietro asked hesitantly, still unsure as to whether he was allowed to enter the redhead's hospital room yet.

The nurse sighed despondently. "You're the one who brought her in, aren't you?"

Pietro nodded.

"Well, she's still unconscious, I'm afraid. But I'm confident that she'll wake up in no time. Her fever did break last night and we've been noticing improvements in her condition ever since."

"Do you know what caused it?"

The nurse shook his head. "Not yet, but they're still examining her blood. It could have been a variety of things all at once. Who knows? It's just lucky that you got her here when you did, otherwise the consequences could have been a lot worse."

People had been saying that a lot to Pietro ever since he had arrived at the medical area of the facility two nights ago and frankly, he was getting slightly sick of it. Technically, he hadn't really done anything. In fact, all he had done was sit in a car with her while she got steadily worse until he had decided to run her the rest of the way. And then, he had burst into the medical bay like a maniac with Ginny bundled limply in his arms, yelling at the top of his lungs for a doctor. And then he had just stood there and watched wordlessly as a team of nurses ran up to him, took her from his arms and placed her on a gurney, already talking rapidly to each other as they pushed her towards one of the treatment rooms.

Since then, no one had been allowed to see her for two days and his hands clenched subconsciously into fists by his sides. If he had been quicker, if he had run her here sooner, then maybe she wouldn't be lying in a coma right now. He cleared his throat.

"Can I see her?" he asked quietly. Maybe now that her fever had broken, he would be allowed to see her and apologise to her, even though she wouldn't hear it.

But the nurse looked at him doubtfully. "She's still in a critical condition," he mused, "however, her vitals are stable and her fever did break… Tell you what, I'll get the doctor and we'll see what she says, all right?"

Pietro nodded mutely and watched as he walked away to one of the doctor's offices. He started tapping his foot impatiently against the floor.

Fuck, he hated hospitals. The white walls, the bright lights, the yelling, the beeping, the crying. There was always something happening. Someone being born, someone dying, someone saying hello and another saying goodbye. This place, though, this medical wing in the Avengers facility was the worst out of all of them, because here, not a single innocent life ever entered. No, instead the only people who walked through those doors were tattered, shattered, and broken, walking in with gun shot wounds, gashes from knives, broken bones, and fragile minds tainted by all that they had endured. People just like him. People like Wanda, Steve and Stark. People like Banner, Thor, Clint and Natasha.

Pietro liked to pretend that everything was okay. He liked to imagine that his bullet wounds gave him no pain even though he woke up almost every night still, gasping as agony penetrated his torso. He liked to believe that he was still whole, just as invincible as he had been at ten years old. But he was no longer that free.

"Mr Maximoff?" The voice of the nurse broke Pietro out of his thoughts and he looked up slowly at him who was walking back towards him, an unreadable expression on his face. "You can see her. Her room number is 376. Just be mindful of all of the leads. And if anything happens, let me know. There's also a call button on the wall just behind the bed if it's urgent."

Pietro nodded in thanks, only just managing to suppress the relief that came with finally being allowed to see Ginny and he had to literally force himself to walk instead of run as he approached her room. He stopped in front of the closed glass doors and sighed to himself, his hand hovering on the handle. There was something oddly intimate about visiting someone's sick room and he vaguely hoped that he wasn't breaking any boundaries by being there. Besides, despite his best efforts to get close to her, she hadn't yet given in, although he did have to admit, a small smirk sitting on his lips, that she was at least becoming slightly more open in general.

His mind made up, Pietro opened the door and grimaced slightly at the room's décor. He didn't want to focus on her. Not yet. Not while he could still preserve the image of her under the lighting at his party in that stunning red dress, a champagne glass in her arm, and a cautious smile on her face. So he concentrated on the walls instead as he padded uncharacteristically slowly into the room. The walls were that stereotypical hospital colour – a light cream – and the floors were spotless and clean. Along one whole side, a large window extended, filling the room with the late afternoon sunlight. As far as hospital rooms go, he thought to himself, sitting down on the chair that was situated in the corner, this one wasn't actually too bad. It least it didn't make you feel claustrophobic, like his had made him feel. God, he had hated that room. It had been so stuffy and ugly and because of his condition at the time, even his sister couldn't persuade the staff to bring in something that would brighten up the place. It had been a relief when he had made it out of there…

Finally, he allowed his eyes to stray to Ginny's motionless body and he blanched at the sight. Her hair that had been so alive with colour and life just the other night, was now limp and dull and her skin was wretchedly pale, her freckles starkly standing out in the natural light of the room. True to the nurse's words, there were leads disappearing under the nightgown that she had been shoved in, measuring her vitals. An I.V. had been stuck gracelessly in one of her arms and Pietro almost reached up to it to soothe the discomfort that she was no doubt feeling because of it. But he stopped himself.

Not for the first time, he wondered what had caused her to become so ill so quickly. It could have been the food, the drink, an infection waiting to pounce as soon as she relaxed for the slightest moment. Or maybe it had been something darker. Maybe someone had targeted her, injecting her with a drug or given her a poison. He knew that it was unlikely, but as far as he knew, the doctors hadn't ruled it out and neither had his fellow Avengers when they had heard of what had happened.

Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, the team had actually been rather worried about their secretary and had actually groaned and griped about having to deal with a replacement.

"I can't believe that I'm saying this, but I don't like this new one," Tony had declared earlier that day. "She's too chatty. And I don't know if you've noticed, but nothing's getting done. Red may have been as secretive as Natasha, but at least she did stuff. Plus, and don't ever tell her I said this, but I miss her quietness."

Pietro had silently agreed, especially after the replacement had tried to seduce him at her earliest possible chance. Ginny had never done that.

He stared once again at the young woman in front of him and wondered whether or not he should say anything. Talking to people in a coma was supposed to help them, right?

"I don't like the replacement secretary," Pietro voiced to her, feeling only slightly awkward as he talked to the unconscious girl lying before him. "She's annoying. And superficial," he added as an afterthought. "Even the others miss you. Maybe even Natasha. Wanda does though, which reminds me. I still have to talk to her about what you told me. About giving her… independence. I'll do that later, though," he contemplated and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "for not getting you here sooner. If I had been quicker, if I had come here first, then maybe you wouldn't be lying here. People, the doctors and the others, say that I saved your life, but I'm the reason you're here."

Tentatively, Pietro reached for her hand, and this time, he didn't hesitate as his warm fingers closed firmly around her slightly cool ones.

* * *

 _I have to go back. I have to go back. I have to go back._

Those were the Ginny's first reliable thoughts three days later and they circled around and around her head as her dreams from the past faded away. Vaguely, she wondered what the date was and she felt herself panic slightly. What if she had missed it? What if she had missed the mourning ceremony? She knew that she had missed it for the past two years, but this year was different. This year she was going to go. She _had_ to go.

"Miss Prewett?" a voice said suddenly and Ginny winced at the disturbingly loud sound. "Can you hear me?" She felt pressure on one of her hands. "If you can hear me, I want you to squeeze my hand."

She didn't know how, but somehow she found the energy to respond to the request and slowly squeezed back. In the background, she could hear beeping and she fluttered her eyelids uncertainly.

"That's great." The voice sounded pleased. "I'm going to go and get Dr Santos. I'll be back very soon."

Dr Santos? Who was Dr Santos?

And then it was all coming back to her.

The party, talking to Pietro and actually having a decent conversation with him, that witch – she couldn't remember her name – her first use of magic in three years, feeling incredibly ill afterwards and then most embarrassingly collapsing into someone's arms not too much later. Absently, Ginny supposed that that was where she must be. The hospital. Merlin, she hated muggle hospitals.

"Miss Prewett?"

Ginny jumped and snapped to attention, eyeing the dark skinned woman standing in the doorway hesitantly. She was wearing light grey scrubs, a symbol sitting lightly on the sleeve and had large bags under her eyes, no doubt from the stress of her job. Her hair hung loosely around her face.

"I'm Dr Sara Santos, but you can call me Sara," she said with a tired smile and she stepped into the room. Her voice was pleasantly accented. "I treated you when you were brought in. How are you feeling? You gave us quite a scare."

Ginny was confused. "A scare?"

Sara nodded grimly. "I don't know how much you remember, but I'm going to walk you through what happened, if that's okay with you?"

Ginny nodded. "I guess," she said hoarsely, her voice ragged from lack of use. "Do you mind if you could get me a glass of water?"

"Absolutely," Sara smiled. "Is there anything you else you want to know or need before I go on?"

"The date," Ginny said bluntly. "And how long I've been out."

"Well, the date is the May the first and you've been out three days."

It took a moment for what Sara had said to register. The first of May? But the ceremony was… tomorrow. She had to leave. She had to leave right now and head for the New York Floo if she had any hope in hell of getting to England.

"I need to leave," Ginny said abruptly, already beginning to weakly push the covers off of her body. "I have somewhere I need to be."

"And that's in here," Sara said sharply. "I don't think you quite understand what happened to you, Miss Prewett, but the matter really was very, very serious."

Ginny sighed irritably. "There's somewhere I need to be."

"And I need you to understand that you came very close to death, Miss Prewett."

Ginny supposed that had she been a 'normal' person, she would have been rather horrified at 'almost dying'. But it wasn't the first time that that had happened to her and she seriously doubted that it would be the last. She pushed more firmly against the covers.

"Miss Prewett, your body entered an extreme and unexplained period of hyperthermia that resulted in shock. I cannot reiterate how serious this is, Miss Prewett, especially seeing as the cause is still unknown."

"And I really need to go! Look, there's a…" Ginny's face tightened and she swallowed hard, "ceremony that I need to go to. One of my brothers was killed in a war several years ago and I absolutely have to go. I've already booked… flights."

Sara's expression softened ever so slightly. "I'm terribly sorry about that. Truly, but you need to worry about yourself right now."

"Look," Ginny said stubbornly, "if you're not going to let me go, then could you please get me the patient discharge papers? I'm not an agent, I'm a secretary, so the rules are different in terms of discharge." For once, she was glad that she had read all of those stupid files that Maria had given her at the beginning of her time here. She had never really thought much of all of the protocols, but at least in this sense, they were giving her a favour.

Sara pursed her lips. "I really must advise you against doing that, Miss Prewett."

"Yes, I suppose that you can advise me against it, but I'm afraid that it won't do anything, because I will be on that flight."

Sara scowled openly and turned to leave. "Fine."

"And also?" Ginny said, this time completely serious, "I wanted to thank you for saving my life."

* * *

"Granted."

For a moment, Ginny was stunned at Maria's answer. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I must say that I don't agree with your decision to refuse treatment, however, I understand your need to go to England. As long as you're back within the week, Prewett."

Ginny nodded once and stood up slowly from the chair. "Absolutely. And thanks."

Maria snorted derisively. "I may be a hard ass, Miss Prewett, but I'm not so harsh that I'll stop you going to a memorial ceremony. Now leave before I change behind."

Amused, Ginny walked quickly out of the agent's office pulling her muggle suitcase behind her as she headed towards the entrance. She was relieved that that was now over and done with; Maria was always fickle when it came to work hours and time off. Now, the only thing that she had to worry about was running into any of the Avengers. Especially, she blanched, Pietro. And Wanda. If they saw her running around right after she had been hospitalised, then she got the feeling that they wouldn't exactly agree with her decision to discharge herself. But then and again, it wouldn't really be very friendly of her to just steal away for a week like a thief in the night…

"Ginny? I thought that you were still in the hospital?"

Ginny jumped slightly as the unexpected yet familiarly accented voice broke through her thoughts and she turned to face Wanda, a carefully bright smile already arranged on her face. "Wanda!" she said cheerfully. "How are you?"

Wanda's eyes narrowed and Ginny vaguely wondered where Pietro was; where Wanda was, Pietro was never too far behind and she grimaced at the though. Pietro, if she were so unfortunate to run into him, would be even worse than Wanda was going to be. "You're avoiding the question. Why aren't you in the hospital?"

Ginny sighed and shifted edgily on her feet. "I discharged myself," she said bluntly. "I have somewhere else to be."

Wanda frowned. "Somewhere so important that you would risk your own health?"

"Yes."

"Then where is it? This place that is so important? Everyone was so worried about you! I was worried about you! Does this place really mean so much to you?"

Ginny closed her eyes briefly, feeling oddly guilty at Wanda's unexpected concern and vehemence. "Yes," she repeated, wearily opening her eyes to meet Wanda's. "This place really does mean that much to me and it is that important."

Wanda laughed incredulously. "I know that you may not believe me, Ginny, but you are wanted here. And yet, you're gong to leave us? Without so much as a goodbye?" She scoffed quietly, her expression hardening and her hands tightening into fists. Ginny saw a red glint pass over her eyes and she eyed Wanda warily as the girl took a step forward towards her. "You are just like the rest. Arrogant and selfish. Just as I originally thought."

Ginny stared at her blankly; a harsh wave of resentment towards herself filling her entire being, because what Wanda had just said was the truth. In more ways than one. To her surprise, she felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes and she forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. She wasn't going to break down in the middle of the corridor. "You're right," she said eventually, her voice soft in the otherwise quiet hall. "I am selfish and arrogant and rude and cruel and heartless. Which is why I'm going back. Do you really want to know why I have to go back, Wanda? Do you? Well, it's because I have to go to a memorial for my brother. He died in a…" Ginny's face tightened, "war and for the last few years, I've been hiding here in America like a selfish coward. I destroyed my contact with them and my friends and I have to go back."

This time, it was Wanda's eyes that flashed with guilt. "I… I'm sorry. I-"

"Didn't know?" Ginny laughed bitterly. "A lot of people don't know anything about me, so don't feel guilty." She looked down at her watch deliberately, wanting to escape the conversation. "Unfortunately, I have to go now but I'll be back in a couple of days. Hopefully. Please tell the others that I'll be back and," she hesitated, "tell Pietro that I owe him my life."

And Ginny turned away, leaving Wanda standing alone in the corridor.

* * *

The Avengers were sitting in one of the many conference rooms, strangely serious expressions on all of their faces.

"So she just left?"

Wanda nodded curtly at Steve. "She did."

"To go to her brother's memorial because after he died she ran away?"

"That's what she implied, yes," Wanda sighed irritably to the archer.

Silence fell in the room.

"She's hiding something," Natasha said finally, her voice cutting the stillness like a knife. "You don't run away after the death of a brother. Maybe her brother was a part of it, but there's something else. Some other reason to account for her coming over here." She turned her sharp gaze on Wanda. "Have you looked inside her head?"

Wanda shook her head. "I did try, once," she admitted, flushing slightly, "but it is like her thoughts protect themselves somehow. They are there and I can feel them, but they are twisted and messy. I can't unravel them."

"Could you try?"

Wanda shrugged uncomfortably. "Yes. No. Maybe. But it would probably take a lot of effort and time. It would probably be painful for both of us. But I don't want to do that, because despite everything, I can understand her. She is in pain and she is hurting, but from what I do not know. And I will not betray her trust like that, not when it is obviously so hard to earn."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "I agree with you. Poking into her thoughts like that would be the wrong way to do it. In my opinion, if we want to know more about her, then we have to let her come to us." He turned back to face Natasha. "Do you really believe that she's a security risk still?"

Natasha glared at him stonily. "Yes and I don't understand how the rest of you are taking this so lightly. We know absolutely nothing about her and despite the fact that she's had the 'perfect childhood' according to her file, she quite obviously hasn't! She quiet, she's guarded, she's controlled, and she's aware. I don't know whether the rest of you have noticed, but she has a fast reaction time. Faster than most," she said darkly. "If something makes a sound, she's turned around before the others even register what's happened. If someone screams, she already knows why. It's instinct for her. She's seen combat and she's been in combat and that's what makes her dangerous."

"So, what," Clint broke in, "you think that she's a spy?"

"I think that that's a very real possibility."

"So what do you propose we do then?" Steve interrupted. "We can't exactly confront her about this."

Natasha shrugged. "We get close to her. We get to know her and when she gets comfortable, then we start probing and asking questions."

"And if that does not work?" Pietro asked sullenly from the other end of the table.

"Then we force it out of her," Natasha said grimly. "And we find out what she's hiding."

* * *

 **Wow. Another super long chapter. I hope that you all don't mind.**

 **Thanks for all of the reviews, favourites, and follows! They all make my day whenever I see the notifications crop up in my inbox!**

 **To the Guests: Thanks for your reviews! They are very much appreciated and I'm really glad that you're both enjoying the story so far!**

 **To dalliene: Thank you for your review! I'm really glad that you're enjoying the story so far and thank you for your good wishes! I think that the mocks went okay, but I guess I'll find out soon enough. Thanks again!**

 **Stay awesome, lovely readers, and I hope that you all have a great week!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	12. Chapter 12

Life is tough, my darling, but so are you.

 _Stephanie Bennett-Henry_

* * *

The gate was worn, its paint peeling and the wood crumbling, but it looked used and loved despite its obvious battle with the cruelty of time. Beyond that, a small pathway made of light grey concrete lined the grass and led to an unconventionally bright red doorway. The lights in the house were on even though the sun was only just now beginning to set in the far distance and the air was cool yet damp with the smell that only England seemed to have. Hedges and vines were dispersed across the maintained yard but small holes in the ground signified the all too recognisable problem of gnomes. The familiarity of it made Ginny smile in relief and she opened the gate slowly, the hinges protesting loudly in the otherwise quiet air.

Her steps felt foreign against the concrete as she walked up to the door with measured steps. From inside the house, she could only just hear the sound of laughing and talking and Ginny vaguely wondered whether or not he had friends over. A part of her wished that he did. It would certainly make things easier for her. As long as none of her family were there though. She wasn't quite ready to deal with them yet.

She stared at the door for a second before hesitantly raising her free hand and knocking hard on its red surface. She would have thought that she would have felt more nervous when this moment finally arrived, but all she could feel was dread. Dread that she would be turned away. Dread at the thought of the explanations that would be required. Dread at the imagination of a friendship destroyed all because of her selfishness. Absently, she realised that the voices from inside fell quickly silent and she shifted uncomfortably on her feet as she waited for him to answer the door. Hopefully he wouldn't shun her. She didn't know whether she would be able to take that.

The door opened and Ginny's head snapped up, her eyes meeting the dumbfounded brown ones of Neville Longbottom. He looked good, she recognised distractedly. Happy. He deserved to be happy.

"I…" Ginny said, suddenly unsure of what to say. "Hello Neville."

Neville didn't say anything and Ginny felt the anxiety in her stomach rise disturbingly.

"I'm sorry to intrude, but could I stay here tonight? I, uh, I have nowhere else to go."

Neville blinked and cleared his throat. "I, uh, sure, sure. But, is that really you?" he said hoarsely. "This isn't a joke or anything, is it?"

Ginny grimaced at him sheepishly. "No, it's not a joke. And thank you. Really."

"Uh, no problem. It's not a problem…"

"Neville? Who is it?" a voice from inside the house called and Ginny smiled a small smile to herself at the sound of one of her best friends' voices. Hermione. She should have known that she was there as soon as she had heard the laughing. Hermione had a very distinct type of laugh. "Honestly, if it's that bloody Vector Baldridge again, then I'll bloody hex his stupid ass to-"

Neville coughed lightly, still looking at Ginny with wide eyes. "It's not Vector Baldridge, Hermione."

"Then who one earth could it-"

"Hello Hermione," Ginny said, a small guilty smile tugging at the edges of her lips as the brunette stepped into view. Her brown hair was done up in a messy bun and she wore comfortable clothes that made Ginny more than slightly envious. Her eyes were bright, yet tired and familiar, and she held herself differently than how she used to hold herself. She seemed more… confident. Proud. It was a nice change to see, especially after the war. In a way, in _many_ ways, Ginny thought, Hermione had had it even tougher than she had. She had suffered because of her blood status, she had been carved up by Bellatrix Lestrange, a mark that would forever be etched into her skin, and she, at the beginning of the war, had erased herself from her parent's minds. She had lost a surrogate mother in Molly Weasley and a brother in Harry. So many, including herself, Ginny thought remorsefully, had gotten caught up in their own loss and their own pain after the war, but so many had suffered so much more. So many had been through so much, seen so much more terror than she had and the thought, as she surveyed the witch standing in front of her, reminded her darkly of that fact. It was sobering. But it was needed. "It's been a while."

Hermione simply stared in disbelief, her eyes just as wide as Neville's. "Yes, you could say that," she said quietly. "But why are you here?" her voice unexpectedly urgent. "Has something happened?"

"I'm going to the ceremony tomorrow," Ginny murmured. "And I'm fine. How are you?"

"I, um, I've been better," Hermione replied tersely, a curious yet cautious expression sitting on her face. "So, are you going to come in and give us an actual explanation or just stand there? And no, Ron isn't here because I broke up with him over a year and a half ago, so don't worry about bumping into any of your family."

Ginny sighed, accepting the bite in Hermione's words and tucked away the knowledge of their break up for later. She stepped in obediently, not missing the appraising look that Hermione gave her at her choice of attire and her use of a muggle travel bag. In all honesty, Ginny wasn't the least bit surprised with the way that she was being treated. She had actually expected outright hostility, so she supposed that this wasn't so bad in comparison. But still, she couldn't deny that she was still hurt by their reactions, even if they were exactly or even less than what she truly deserved.

"This place hasn't changed much from the last time that I was here," Ginny commented lightly as she stepped into the entry hall, her suitcase trailing behind her. "It looks just the same."

Neville smiled awkwardly and looked around the entrance hall affectionately, a far off look in his eyes. "It does, doesn't it? After Gran died, I just didn't have the heart to change it…"

Ginny breathed in sharply at his admission. His Gran had died? When? How? And Ginny felt the now familiar wave of guilt bubbling up inside her. She had been gone for too long. Far too long, wrapped in a web of her own problems.

God, she had been such a selfish bitch.

"Merlin, Neville, I'm so sorry."

He looked at the ground and brought a tense hand through his hair. "Yeah, well," he muttered. "It was over a year ago, but I think that she was glad to leave this place behind." Ginny didn't miss the slight jab that came with his words and she pursed her lips at the sound of it.

"So," Hermione interrupted, bitter mood that had fallen over them breaking. "Like I said, Ron isn't here, but I think that that's a good thing, given the circumstances," she added with a careful look at Ginny, "but Luna and Draco are both here. I'm sure that they would be glad to see you."

"Draco? As in Draco Malfoy? Are you serious?" Ginny said disbelievingly, forgetting the sombre atmosphere for a brief second. "But he's a slimy, stuck up git!"

"You mean, Weasley, that I _was_ a slimy, stuck up git."

The voice was disgustingly familiar and Ginny glanced up as the blonde strolled haughtily into the small hall. Ginny glared at him in stunned disbelief. He had, if it was possible, gotten taller than from when she knew him and his hair had become even whiter if the shine under the dim lighting was anything to go by. But he looked different. Less sallow, and more… light, she supposed to herself. She had to grudgingly admit that the new look did suit him. Somewhat. "Long time no see, Weaselette," he purred, smirking at her arrogantly. "Kenna Optum, am I correct?"

"How do you know about her?" Ginny asked snappishly. She hadn't heard that name in over three years and quite frankly, she had never wanted to hear it again.

"Well," Malfoy shrugged, stepping towards her, the heels of his black shoes clacking on the wooden floor, "she's the only one who could have hidden you so well. She is, after all, the one whom all of the Death Eaters went to. I do believe, though, that she is in some sort of American Wizard Prison after her activities were discovered, but you must have gotten to her just in time."

"Obviously," Ginny muttered tightly.

"You know, Weasley," Malfoy continued, his smirk widening, "I would say that you haven't changed a bit, seeing as girls like to hear that kind of thing, but this time I'm going to make an exception, because you look great. Really."

"Very kind of you, Malfoy," Ginny scowled at him and she shifted her gaze to Neville and Hermione, the former who looked slightly cautious and the latter who looked more than a little curious at the exchange. "So how long has he been a part of the group?" she asked, jabbing a finger at the blonde.

" _I_ have been a part of the 'group' since after the war," Malfoy interrupted smoothly, still staring at Ginny, his gaze mildly intrigued. "When the aurors came for me, I didn't resist. I spent a couple of months in Azkaban for it though, mind you, but it gave me time to think." He took a deep breath, placing his hands contemplatively behind his back. "So I decided to contact these idiots here," he said, indicating Hermione and Neville. "I wanted to know about what was happening after the war. Who had been captured etcetera. The letters were short and to the point at first, but slowly, we started a regular correspondence and before I knew it, my time in Azkaban was over and now the only thing that it remains is a fleeting nightmare. When I got out, Neville put me up for a while and then Hermione, after she had broken up with that Weasley git, hosted me for a while as well. It wasn't exactly fun, but it did the job for a couple of months before I could get my own place. I owe them."

Ginny was silent. "Fine," she said finally. "But I still don't like you. Or trust you, for that matter."

Malfoy scoffed. "I don't need you to like me or trust me. You only have to understand my reasons. Speaking of reasons, Weaslette, what are yours? Because, you see, I've been trying to justify your running away for the past few minutes now and I still have yet to come up with something that actually supports your decision to spontaneously leave."

Hermione sighed. "Why don't we move this into the living room," she said, rubbing the bridge of her nose irritably. "We all have a lot to catch up on and I'm not going to talk whilst standing here in the bloody doorway. Besides, Luna's waiting for us."

The living room looked like it had come right out of the Victorian era and was wonderfully familiar as Ginny stepped into it, memories of past visits floating randomly into her mind. The sofas were spotless with cream coloured fabric lining them. Wood had been twirled elegantly into handles. Cupboards made of glass and polished wood – mahogany, if she wasn't mistaken – filled the room, protecting the little figurines, moving photographs and expensive porcelain dinnerware.

And then there was Luna. The blonde looked radiant, giving Ginny a big beaming smile as soon as she laid eyes on the redhead. An odd necklace, one that Ginny hadn't seen before, was swinging wildly around her neck and there was a dreamy look in her intelligent eyes. In her hands, she held a stack of parchment, neat scrawl covering the pages, and Ginny vaguely wondered if those were her own notes or someone else's. Merlin, Ginny had missed her.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight," Neville said slowly through a mouthful of biscuit, giving Ginny a somewhat impressed look. "You went to America where you changed your identity and hid yourself from the magical world. Then, you, you who barely used to have any interest in muggles, gave up magic and got a muggle job in a muggle company."

Ginny inclined her head. "That would be correct."

"And you're still there? A part of this muggle company? Do you still not use magic?"

"I am still a part of the muggle company," Ginny said dryly, reaching for her own biscuit, "and believe it or not, I used magic only days ago in a confrontation against some stuck up witch named Jennifer Evamore."

"Jennifer Evamore?" Malfoy scoffed incredulously. "Who the bloody hell have you been employed by, Weasley? She's not exactly small news."

"So she told me."

"You didn't do anything crazy, did you?" Hermione asked warily. "I mean, I've read various papers on withholding magic and all of them state that there is some sort of consequence, loss of control being the most common. In some cases, there can even be an outbreak of a horrible fever, which can sometimes become so high that the witch or wizard in question actually dies if they don't receive treatment. It can be really serious."

So her suspicion had been correct, Ginny mused to herself. It hadn't been an infection, but a result of her using her magic again. A part of her was relieved at the confirmation. At least she knew the cause. And at least she knew that it wouldn't happen again. Hopefully.

"You haven't seen a Jillandally Rasckle in America, have you, Ginny?" Luna broke in suddenly and Ginny turned to her, her well-worn radish earrings swinging lightly in her ears. Luna, out of all of them, had changed the least but Ginny didn't mind. Luna wouldn't be Luna if she wasn't eccentric and right now, she needed some eccentricity. "I did a report on them just the other day for the Quibbler and it would be so fantastic to hear from someone who's seen one."

Ginny shook her head slowly, a small smile on her lips. "I'm afraid I haven't, Luna. But when I head back, I'll keep an eyes out."

"Oh," she said, looking slightly disappointed. "But I'm glad that you're back. How long are you staying for?"

Ginny shrugged uneasily, feeling the stares of the others burning into her body at Luna's question. She should have known that it would get asked at some point, but it made it no easier to discuss. "A couple of days. A week at most. That's when I have to be back at work."

"Well, at least you've actually bothered to come this year," Hermione said eventually, her brown eyes sorrowful before her lips raised unexpectedly into a small smile. "It'll be good to have you at the ceremony tomorrow."

Ginny smiled an equally small smile back at her friend. "So, what's happened here?" she asked, deliberately changing the subject. "A lot, I'm assuming."

Malfoy chuckled. "Well, for one, I'm currently doing very well for myself at Gringotts," a boastful note entering his voice. "It was odd, working with goblins at first, but once you know how to work with them, they really make very good company. I also haven't seen my father in several years and as far as I know, he entered a comatose state that even the best healers haven't been able to bring him out of. I see my mother on occasion, but she's distant. Too busy worrying after my bastard of a father, I expect," he muttered resentfully. "I don't have any siblings to worry about, nor do I have a steady girlfriend of any sort. And that's my life in a nutshell."

Ginny turned to Neville. "And you, Neville?"

"Uh, I'm studying Herbology. I want to be a teacher."

"And he's doing very well," Hermione jumped in, a proud expression on her face. "First in his class."

Neville flushed slightly at the compliment and Ginny found herself smiling for her friend.

"I'm glad for you, Neville," she said warmly and he flushed an even brighter red under the comment.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"And what about you, Luna?"

"Me?" Luna looked somewhat startled. "Why, I'm working at the Quibbler, of course. You haven't been following it, by any chance, have you?"

Ginny shook her head. "I'm sorry to say that I haven't."

"Then I'll have to catch you up," Luna said firmly. "I'll bring the last couple of issues to the ceremony tomorrow and you can take them back to America with you. They can occupy you when you're not working."

"I, uh, thank you, Luna. Really," Ginny said, slightly surprised that Luna was willing to do something like that for her.

"The Quibbler's actually doing very well now," the blonde went on absently. "After the war, the magazine became so popular. I think it was because we discovered the Crumple Horned Snorkack soon after. It really was a wonderful discovery, though, and it was so much better than I had imagined."

Ginny finally turned to face Hermione, still slightly unsure as to what Hermione thought of her unexpected reappearance. "And you Hermione?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm doing a little bit of this and a little bit of that. I work at the ministry mainly, though. In the Department for Wizarding Equality. The work can be slow," she shrugged, "but I'm making a difference, so in my opinion, it's perfect."

* * *

Ginny was sitting on the bed, her loose bedclothes resting comfortably on her skin as she allowed herself to relax for the first time in days. It was good, she realised, seeing her friends again. But it wasn't just that. It was that they had accepted her without resentment. They had forgiven her, allowed her back into their lives. She wasn't going to pretend that everything was as it had once been and she doubted that it would ever return to that, but what they all had now was different. It was stronger. Different. And it was good. Merlin, how could she have left all of this behind? How could she have abandoned all of them without a second thought? She no longer knew, but like she had said earlier, she wouldn't change what she had done. Not if she even got a second chance.

Ginny took a deep breath, forcing her mind to go blank as she focused back on her silent brunette friend who was sitting with her on the bed. It was the first time that they had been alone all evening, seeing as they were all staying at Neville's for the night, and it was, quite frankly, a relief to be alone with her. Out of all of her friends, Hermione was the one whose opinion mattered the most and Ginny wanted for her to understand why she left. Why she couldn't have possibly stayed even though she now recognised that there were different ways that she could have dealt with the problem. "So what happened between you and Ron?" Ginny asked quietly, hugging her pillow tightly.

Hermione sighed, fiddling with a few strands of her hair that had come loose from her ponytail. "He came home one day and I suddenly realized that he wasn't what I wanted anymore. He was over protective, condescending at times and generally annoying. He brooded constantly over Harry's death and your betrayal and I just decided that I couldn't handle it any more. I tried to get it back, whatever it was that we had. I really did, but nothing I did worked and despite my efforts, we drifted even further apart. So I left him and even though it's been more than eighteen months, we still don't talk. I nod to him at work and he nods to me and that's just how it is. I think that that's how it's always going to be," she finished, her voice slightly bitter.

Ginny hesitated in her reply. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing you could have done, I'm afraid."

Hermione wavered and Ginny exhaled heavily to herself. She knew what was coming. It had been coming all evening. "I can understand why you left, Ginny. Really, I can. But you have no idea what it did to your family. When you left, and there's no easy way to say this, but you… You broke them. Your mum and Fred had just died and then Harry, who was like a brother, a son, was gone as well. And then you disappeared without a trace, leaving only a note on the kitchen table. For months, Ron refused to talk about you. He even refused to say your name. Charlie and George kept coming around, hoping that we would have heard from you. They tried getting in touch with you, but all of their letters returned unopened. We never even knew if they had reached you.

"Your dad took it the worst, although I have to say that it wasn't just your disappearance that caused that. He buried himself in his work, never coming home, barely speaking. Even now, he stays to himself. Bill, I think, stayed the calmest about the whole situation and said simply that you would return when you were ready. Percy was very much the same, although he was a little cross at first. I think, though, that he also understands your need to get away, seeing as he did it himself. In the end, he said exactly the same words as Bill."

Ginny felt a wave of gratitude fall over her body at Hermione's words. Thank Merlin for Bill. And Percy. Bill and her had always gotten on well, especially when they had been younger and it seemed that even after her betrayal, he still understood her side of the story. But Percy? He was different. Very different. He had always been so aloof, so untouchable, especially to a young girl who barely knew any better. In fact, now that she thought about it, she had barely spoken to him as a child and now, she regretted not getting to know the brother who was standing up for her and she made a mental note to thank him at the next opportunity.

"And you?" Ginny found herself asking carefully. "How did you take it?"

"At first," Hermione said slowly, "I was surprised that you had gone to such lengths; I really hadn't expected you to pack up and leave. And then I was angry. For a long while, I resented your decision to leave. I resented your selfishness. I tried to understand, I really did, but in my eyes, your excuse still wasn't good enough to just leave your family and your friends without nothing but a letter to go on. Not to mention, you didn't even bother to stay in contact with any of us. So," she took a deep breath, "that's why I've been a little bit distant tonight."

"No, it's okay. Really. That's why I'm here. To apologise for acting like an idiot. Over the past few days," Ginny smiled wryly, "well, let's just say that I had the chance to think, truly think for the first time in a long while. I'm not going to pretend that what I did was correct, because it really wasn't and I'm also not going to pretend that what I did wasn't selfish, because it was probably the most selfish thing that I've ever done, but I'm not going to deny that it was one of the best decisions that I've made. I learned to be independent. I was allowed to heal. And I did it by myself. I have been given opportunities that a lot of other people don't have and am now a part of a group that is probably the best place for me, even though I didn't realise it at first," she added wryly. "I look back on my decisions now and I see so many different ways that I could have handled the situation, but I wouldn't change my path. Not anymore."

Hermione nodded slowly at Ginny's admission. "Where are you working, actually?" she asked curiously.

"Uh," Ginny hesitated, "officially, I work for a private event management company, but unofficially, and I probably shouldn't tell you this, I work for the Avengers Initiative. I'm their secretary."

Hermione's nearly fell off the bed. "The Avengers?" she said incredulously. "They're the only things that the muggle news talk about! Merlin, they're so big that even the Prophet comments on them from time to time. You know, apparently they're supposed to be coming to London later this week and everyone is freaking out, especially seeing as there's two new members or some rubbish like that." Hermione shook her head disbelievingly. "Do I even want to know how you landed a job like that?"

"It was an accident, actually," Ginny said amusedly. "And I totally forgot that they were coming here this week, but if you want, I could introduce you?"

Hermione eyes her suspiciously. "Really?"

Ginny snorted. "Of course. It would be easy. I have them all on speed dial."

Hermione smirked at her. "Well, seeing as you're offering, I might have to take you up on that. And speaking of your phone, yours is lighting up."

Ginny turned to it, perplexity etched on her face as she picked it up and looked at the number. Wanda Maximoff. Why was she calling? She hoped that everything was all right.

"Sorry, but do you mind if I take this?" Ginny asked suddenly and Hermione smiled a knowing, teasing smile at her. It was good to see again. A relief.

"Of course, Miss Secretary-to-the-most-famous-group-in-the-muggle-world," Hermione grinned.

Ginny rolled her eyes good-naturedly and placed the phone to her ear, pressing the 'accept' button as she did so. She hoped that she wasn't about to hear bad news.

"Wanda, what's up? Is everything okay?"

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. "I, yes, everything's fine. I just wanted to call to… apologise for earlier."

Ginny's expression softened. "Wanda, you don't have to worry about that."

"No, but I do." Wanda's voice was vehement in her reply. "I should have never said what I said to you. I shouldn't have assumed anything."

"It's fine. Honestly. And I can understand your worry, but you have nothing to stress about. The flight was fine and I'm fine. So relax!"

There was a weak chuckle before Wanda paused again, seemingly unsure of what to say in her final words. "I know that you're taking a break, but seeing as you're in England and we're visiting, do you think that we could meet up at some point?"

"I was planning on coming back with you all, anyway," Ginny said casually. "And that would be fine. Let me know when you arrive and we can arrange something." She hesitated for a moment. "And how's the rest of the team?" she asked awkwardly.

"Annoyed that you left without explanation, but I think that they understand. Or at least most of them understand. Pietro's still very… cross with you."

Ginny grimaced slightly.

"But it will be good to see you later this week. You can show us a little bit of where you live, even though everyone's already been to London," she continued somewhat reproachfully.

"All right then, I'll do my best, but don't expect anything fantastic. I never spent a lot of time in London."

"Who was that?" Hermione asked curious as Ginny hung up the phone a minute later.

"Wanda Maximoff."

Recognition dawned in Hermione's eyes and she perked up in interest. "She's the one who manipulates energy or something like that, yes? I remember the prophet doing a massive report on her a couple of days ago, using her as a general example of the threat that these new 'powered muggles' give. Apparently," Hermione said wryly, "they're a threat to our society."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "A threat to our society, huh? Are those Rita Skeeter's words?"

Hermione snorted contemptuously. "How'd you guess? But the truth of the matter is, is that her article sparked some serious debate in this side of the wizarding world– I don't know what it's all like in America – but on this side, people are actually taking her seriously. I swear, if she writes another article like that one, then Shacklebolt is going to have to do something about it."

* * *

Wanda sat by herself, her back against the wall, her phone placed carelessly at her side from her conversation with Ginny. She had just had that dream. Again. The one with the boy with the lightning shaped scar, the slithering shape of darkness that resembled a man, the nameless faces, and the flashing and whistling of the dangerously deceptive lights. She still had no idea what it meant or why she was having it and it was beginning to frustrate her.

Was it a vision that she was having? A premonition of what was to come? Or was it something that had happened in the past? But then and again, maybe the entire thing was something that her mind had created. But Wanda, although she had originally suspected that that might have been the case, no longer suspected that that was true. After all, she had figured out long ago that she didn't dream about useless, nonsensical things. She scowled to herself. No, she always dreamt about something that was relevant, no matter how terrible that relevance may be. But then and again, if it wasn't a creation that her mind had devised, a vision of the future or the past, then what was it? The only thing was, was that if it wasn't any of those things, then there was only one other possible option. Unfortunately, it was one that Wanda didn't believe for a second, because how could anything that she saw within the dream considered to be true?

She sighed as the thought drifted to the forefront of her mind anyway _. A memory._

There was no way, though, that it could be possible. After all, boys with lightning shaped scars and figures comprised of only evil were nothing more than the figments of a wild imagination. But still, a part of her couldn't help but wonder… She distantly wondered what Ginny would think of the constant repetition of the horrifying dreams. The secretary was, after all, the only person whom she had told the content of the nightmares to. In all honesty, Wanda hadn't been expecting herself to reveal the contents of the dreams to anyone, but then, that one morning before she left for her first interrogation, she hadn't been able to help herself. The words had just spilled out of her. Wanda hadn't known how Ginny would react to her dream, but what she hadn't expected, was the understanding that had rung through Ginny's words. And it hadn't been false understanding either. But then and again, Wanda believed that the redheaded secretary was not as naïve as she pretended to be. Because Wanda had seen, on occasion, past the blank poker face that was always carefully arranged on Ginny's face. Granted, it hadn't been often, but when the mask did slip away, Wanda had seen the stricken, grieving young woman underneath and she shifted guiltily as the memory of her own harsh words from earlier that day filled her mind. _Selfish_ , Wanda had said. _Arrogant._ But what had really struck her had been the way that Ginny had looked at her when she had uttered those vicious words and Wanda felt even more remorseful at her rashness.

Wanda had, admittedly, tried to enter her head towards the beginning, when she hadn't yet known her. More than once, as a matter of fact, but every single time she had failed to receive even a small memory. It wasn't that there was a barrier that was protecting Ginny's mind, it was just that everything was so intensely and densely guarded that it would take more than an hour to try and unravel the encrypted thoughts.

She smiled wryly to herself at the abstract thought. _Encrypted thoughts_. Was such a thing even possible? Wanda didn't really know, although she did suppose that if she really tried, then Ginny Prewett's thoughts would be open to her. The only thing was, though, was that she wasn't even sure if she wanted to read Ginny's thoughts. The woman clearly had secrets, secrets that she kept well guarded, and after the secretary had stood up for her the other night with the Avengers and when she had allowed Wanda to dress her and the way that she had looked only earlier that day… Well, even if someone ordered her to do it, Wanda no longer wanted to invade Ginny's privacy like that.

She stood up slowly, her vision blurring slightly at the edges and she grasped the wall to steady herself. It seemed, much to her annoyance that the after effects of the dream hadn't worn off yet. She padded lazily into the kitchen and yawned widely, as she poured herself a glass of water from the tap. She wondered what she was going to do now, seeing as there was no way that she was going to be able to go back to sleep. She could always train. The gym was, after all, always open and Natasha was constantly bugging her about practicing more and refining her skills. Besides, a good session would probably be able to burn off all of her negative energy and maybe be able to make her feel just that little bit better.

Yes, she decided. That's what she would do.

It didn't take her long to dress in some loose fitting exercise clothes and fill up her water bottle. She wondered what she would do at the gym. She could always go to the simulation room that was reserved just for the Avengers or she could run on the treadmill, but then and again, unlike Pietro, running had never really been her thing. She had never enjoyed the thumping of her feet on the pavement or the heavy feeling that came with the repetitive movement for too long or the horrible breathlessness. Her heart ached slightly at the thought of her brother. She had barely seen him ever since she had come back from the interrogation. She had, of course, turned up to his extravagant party that same evening, but they had barely spoken. Instead, he would just shoot her these sad looks of hurt and betrayal and Wanda had allowed it as she watched him flirt with the many girls that had surrounded his side. She no longer knew who the coward was anymore. Was it her? Or was it Pietro?

She sighed and stepped out of her room, the door automatically locking behind her.

"Wanda."

Wanda jumped, her power flooding her veins in her sudden fright.

"Pietro!" she gasped, turning around to face her brother. "Don't do that to me!" And she hit him playfully on the arm like she used to.

But Pietro didn't react. Instead, he just stared at her intently, knowingly. "You had another one, didn't you. Another nightmare."

Wanda didn't even try to deny it. "You know?"

"I always know. When you're in pain, when you're sad and unhappy…" Pietro paused and ran a hand anxiously through his hair. Wanda raised an eyebrow at his unexpected nervousness. Well, that was interesting. "Someone…" he continued uncomfortably, "told me recently that you think that I'm not allowing you to be independent. Is that true? Do you really feel that way? Because God Wanda! I can't just watch you from the sidelines as you torture yourself with these nightmares! That is what brothers are here for! I am here to help you!" He stepped forward, grasping her arms in his. "I promised to protect you, Wanda. Why aren't you letting me do that anymore?"

"I…" Wanda opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She tried again. "I-I wanted to show you, to show everyone, that I can take care of myself." She wriggled herself out of his grasp and started pacing up the hallway and towards the gym. "You are the best brother any sister could ask for. You have always been there for me. You protected me, you gave me the food when there was none and yes! I do know about all of the nights that you went hungry even though you told me that you had already eaten! But it's no longer just us two anymore. We no longer have to rely on each other. Pietro," Wanda stopped walking and spun around to face her brother, "we are surrounded by people, people who for the first time, treat us as their equals. We're no longer just 'the twins' or the 'experiments' or the 'test subjects.' We're Avengers. I-I didn't mean to hurt you, Pietro, I just wanted to try and make you understand that I've changed. That we've both changed." She looked at him imploringly, almost begging him to say something; his silence and stillness was unnerving. But he said nothing before zipping away a second later, a trail of silver lingering behind him, and once again, Wanda wondered who the real coward in this situation was.

It took her more than a little bit of time to pull herself together from her discussion with Pietro before she walked slowly and contemplatively the rest of the way to the gym. She met no one on her way there, but she did see the occasional agent coming in from late night training walking around the place and she decided that she rather liked the facility at night. It was nowhere near as busy, crowded, or serious. In fact, the aura surrounding the place could even be described as being strangely peaceful.

She padded lightly into the main gym and walked to the very back, where the simulation studio was located, before hesitantly entering the control room. She had only ever done this once before, so she hoped that she would remember how to use the various controls properly. She lifted a hand uncertainly above one of the delicate screens. Maybe she should get Ginny after all. Besides, she would be the only person out of all of the people that she knew here at the facility that wouldn't ask questions or for justification of her actions. But then and again, Ginny had been disturbed enough nights of week as it was with all of the extra assignments…

Mind made up, Wanda pressed the screen confidently and was immediately assaulted with the bright lights that shone from the technology. Although unsure of what she was doing at first, she quickly figured out the program and created something that she was sure that she would be able to handle by herself. She put the simulation on a timer and placed one of the monitors that would assess her vital signs and offer termination of the program should it be too difficult around one of her slim wrists. Making sure that she had everything under control, Wanda entered the large, panel-filled studio, the timer on her band counting down the seconds that she had until the simulation started.

 _Three._ Wanda briefly wondered who had spoken to Pietro about his smothering behaviour. Maybe it had been Ginny. _Two._ The redhead did seem to be one of the few people that Pietro actually listened to and whose opinion he actually valued. But then and again, Pietro valued a lot of things, many of which Wanda had no idea about and she wasn't so callous to go to digging through his mind to find out. _One_. The panels came to her life in front of her and she called her own red magic to the tips of her fingertips.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I hoped that you enjoyed this chapter. It was a little on the slow side, but this chapter is pivotal to future events. Promise.**

 **If any of you find any mistakes with spelling or anything like that, then don't hesitate to tell me and I will go through it! I'm just super tired and I don't know if I missed anything this week or not.**

 **Thanks for all of the new favourites, follows, and reviews! They all make my day!**

 **To the three guests: I'm really glad that you're all enjoying the story so far and thanks for reviewing! For the one that said that there were a few spelling mistakes with the last chapter, thank you!**

 **I hope that everyone has a great week! (I have an interview for uni coming up! I'm so excited)**

 **HauntedCinders**


	13. Chapter 13

**This chapter is dedicated to the victims of the Brussels attacks and all of those whose lives have been affected because of them.**

* * *

Find me where the wild things are

We'll be all right, don't mind us

 _Wild Things_

 _Alessia Cara_

* * *

Ginny stared at herself in the mirror, mascara trailing down her face, her eyes and nose red from the crying. Her skin was clammy and pale and her hands were shaking. The black mourning robes that she was wearing were stifling and Ginny was tempted to just rip them off and leave them in tattered shreds on the floor. Merlin, she should have known that this would have happened. She should have guessed, should have suspected.

"Ginny?" Hermione was banging on the door of her guest bedroom. "Ginny. Open the door. Please."

But Ginny didn't move from her position. In fact, she barely even heard the concerned voice of her friend. She had, of course, suspected that her family was going to be at the ceremony, but she hadn't expected them to do _that_. Or rather, she hadn't expected Ron to do what he did. But he had always been impulsive and overwhelmingly fantastic at holding a grudge. She should have seen it coming, she thought bitterly. She really should have. She should have prepared something, something to say when she saw them. But she hadn't done. And now she was paying the price. But the price, as soon as she had stepped out of that front door three years ago, was always going to be high. She just, perhaps rather foolishly on her part, hadn't realized how high.

"Come on, Ginny. Please. Don't make me force the door open."

Ginny blinked at Hermione's words as though she was registering them for the first time and walked robotically, slowly over to the door.

 _Disappointment. Traitor._

Snippets of the words that Ron had yelled at her long after the ceremony had ended reverberated throughout her head. Granted, he had been drunk and careless with his words and at least he had shouted them at her in some quiet pub out in the middle of nowhere, but that didn't make her feel any better. "You're not my sister," he had slurred at her. "You don't even deserve to be here, not after what you did. You don't deserve to visit their graves." Her other brothers had tried to force Ron to calm down, they really had, but nothing had stopped him. And Ginny hadn't stopped him either.

The ceremony had, though, been a horribly unpleasant experience in general. The air had been heavy, weighted down with grief and heartbreak and the sounds of soft cries had filled the hall. The words that had been spoken by the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, though comforting and strong, had been just as miserable as the rest of the ceremony and Ginny had found it to be a relief when the speeches of Harry's 'indescribable bravery' and his 'sacrifice' had finally ended. Not to mention, wherever she had walked, whispers and pointed fingers had followed; Ginny could still feel their curious, probing eyes on her back and slithering over her skin. The general wizarding public had never found out the real reason as to why she had left and if Ginny had anything else to say on the matter, then they would never find out.

The only real success from the whole disgusting ordeal, was that Ginny had been able to speak with her father. Ginny had never really been sure what her father would do, when he saw her. Perhaps yell, or cry, or scream, or just stare at her blankly and ignore her, but she hadn't calculated his real reaction at all. The moment he had laid eyes on her, he had run towards her, worry, concern, and relief filling his eyes as he had grasped her in a tight hug. God, had it felt good to get a hug from her father again…

"Ginny," he had said, his voice slightly muffled and hoarse. "Ginny. You're back. Merlin, I was so worried. I was so worried…"

He hadn't even been angry with her and in Ginny's opinion, that had been the worst part; instead, Arthur Weasley had stayed at her side throughout the whole ceremony, happiness and pride etched over every part of his being. And then he had apologised. Her father, who really hadn't done anything wrong in the first place, had apologised to _her_. She wished that he had yelled at her, accused her, embarrassed her, and was angry with her. But he had done and had been none of those things. And then at the end of the ceremony, he told her that he had forgiven her, that he loved her, and that he would always be there for her. He told her that he had come to terms with her decision and that he would support her no matter where and what she did and his confessions almost broke Ginny right there and then.

Ginny didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve his love, not after what she had done, but it seemed that she had it anyway, and this time, she was going to make sure that she didn't toss it away like she had done last time. So, when she had left, she had told him that she loved him and would write to him every week and he had happily accepted, telling her that the Burrow was always open to her and Ginny promised, that the next time that she was in England, that she would go there. Bill and Charlie, while more distant than her father had been, had seemed just as relieved and she had even exchanged several words with them, promising to write to them more. George, however, had looked at her with simple and heartbreaking disappointment. He had barely spoken to her, looked at her, acknowledged her. Ginny had wanted to yell at him, scream at him that she was sorry, but she could understand. They had always been there for each other, and she had abandoned George at the hardest point in his life.

Ginny wiped under her eyes, her fingers coming away black, and sniffed loudly, pulling herself together, before stiffly opening the door.

Hermione paused in her pacing and strode up to Ginny, giving her a worried stare. "Are you okay?"

"No." Ginny didn't even bother trying to lie.

"Ron is such a git."

"I know."

"He never should have said what he said to you," Hermione said, her eyes flashing.

"No, but I deserved it."

Hermione looked at Ginny sharply. "No, you didn't."

"But what he said… It was on everyone else's minds. I could tell."

Hermione snorted. "It was not. I admit that I may have resented _your decision_ for a while after you left and I never hated you, but then one day, I understood. I understood everything because Ron did exactly the same to me. I was never able to do anything. He was, as you said to me all of those years ago, stifling me and I couldn't handle it. But I never hated you or what you did. I was disappointed, yes, but I never even thought any of what Ron said to you today. It was way out of line. Honestly," she muttered, "I swear that I'm going to write him a Howler so vicious that his sorry little house is going to crash down around him. And then we'll see who's sorry."

Even Ginny couldn't help the snort of amusement that managed to break through her tears. "Hermione, you don't have to do that."

"I do have to do that and I will do that," she replied seriously. "Besides, he was deserving of one after I broke up with him, but I never actually sent it. It's still sitting in my room, actually, but now I can just put everything together." Hermione smiled grimly. "He won't know what hit him."

Ginny laughed a watery laugh. "That sounds perfect. And why are you here, anyway? Surely you want to be somewhere else…"

"There's nowhere I'd rather be," Hermione said firmly. "And Neville owled me earlier to say that you were completely distraught. I mean, I know that we missed three years of each other's lives, but I'm not that crass and I don't hold a grudge for that bloody long. Besides, if you introduce me to the Avengers tomorrow, I think that I'll entirely forgive you." She grinned impishly. "We'll just have to pretend like I knew nothing and act all surprised."

Ginny nodded and stepped closer to Hermione, giving her a tight hug. "Thanks Hermione," she whispered. "I'm sorry for acting like a selfish git."

"It's fine," Hermione said. "Just so long as you don't do a disappearing act again. And as long as you actually keep in contact this time!"

And later that evening, even though the two witches didn't manage to succeed in bringing down Ronald Weasley's 'sorry little house' down, they did succeed in shocking the wizard in question to the extent that his ears were still ringing with the combined words of both Ginny and Hermione late into the night.

* * *

 ** _Where has she been?_**

 _By Drew Forena_

 _Ginny Weasley, daughter of the deceased Molly Weasley and ex-girlfriend of Harry Potter, is known not only for her admittedly remarkable defeat of Bellatrix Lestrange three years at the Final Battle, but also for her disappearing act only several weeks after the war. But yesterday, at the three year anniversary, we saw her again. That's right, my faithful witches and wizards, Ginny Weasley, the redheaded and powerful witch, is back, leaving many to ask the question, "Why did she leave in the first place?" Well, fear not my dear readers, because this reporter has the facts that you didn't know you needed! It appears that Ginny Weasley, after the war, disappeared to America where she has been spotted on numerous accounts with Muggles! (Turn to page 4 for more information) It is still unclear as to what her job in the country is, but there have been rumours that Miss Weasley is working an undercover job for the Ministry of Magic._

Ginny slapped the paper onto the table in irritation, glaring at the moving picture of her on the front cover. It was an old one, taken just hours before the war, when she had been holed up in the Room of Requirement. Her face and clothes were dirty and her eyes shone with a hard light, her wand held in her grasp, her hair flying around her as she focused on whatever task that she had been assigned. A last picture before the Final Battle and Ginny smirked wryly at the thought.

"Anything interesting in the news?" Neville asked conversationally, cutting his toast up into squares and Ginny glanced up at him. "I heard the other day, that apparently that muggle group, the Avengers, or whatever they're called, are arriving in London today and wizarding society is going crazy, demanding that Kingsley do something about it. I dunno what he could do, though, to be honest. Muggles aren't supposed to know about us. I mean, I know that the muggle Prime Minister was told, but he's an exception. These people… I don't reckon that that would be such a good idea."

"Hmm," was all Ginny said as she flicked absently to another article in the Prophet.

"And speaking of Kingsley," Neville continued, "he sent an owl last night. He wants to speak with you. Your appointment is at eleven this morning."

Ginny choked on her pumpkin juice. "He said what?" she wheezed, coughing loudly.

"He wants to see you," Neville repeated.

"Yes, I got that. But why?"

Neville shrugged. "I dunno. He just wants to see you."

And so, two hours later, Ginny found herself marching both curiously and worriedly through the Ministry, the awkward badge pinned on the blouse of her muggle work clothes; she didn't have any wizarding ones anymore, and ignored the stares that she was attracting because of it. Deep breath, she told herself, holding her head high as she stalked through the crowd. Just ignore them and you'll be fine.

"Ginny? Is that you?"

She froze in the middle of the walkway, barely daring to breathe at the familiar voice.

"Percy?" she breathed, turning around to face one of her older brother's. Percy had been the only one who hadn't been at the ceremony yesterday, but a part of her had expected that. Percy always had liked distance and she assumed, that when it came to grieving, that he isolated himself even more. In that respect, they were very much alike.

"Wow, Gin, is that really you? I mean, I heard from Bill and Charlie that you had turned up to the ceremony yesterday but…"

"Let me guess. You didn't believe them?"

Percy chuckled. "You could say that." He walked up to her, a beaming smile on his face. "You look good, Gin. I swear, America, if that's where you were, was good for you! Are you going back? You know, I always respected your decision to leave. At first, I admit, I wasn't very impressed, but then I thought back to the time that I left and then I was able to fully understand. I mean, our family's not exactly the easiest when it comes to independence, are they?"

Ginny grinned. "I have to agree. And how are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm the personal secretary to the Minister for Magic. I have a wonderful girlfriend… But you could have sent a letter or two," he scolded gently. "I wouldn't have told anyone."

"Well, I promise to do that now. I should never have stayed as silent as I did."

Percy peered at her over his glasses. "You look surprised."

"I'm not surprised!" she protested. "I'm just… oh, okay, I'm surprised then. I thought that you would hate me."

Percy looked bemused. "Hate you? How could I hate you when I did exactly the same thing? That would have been rather hypocritical of me, wouldn't you agree?" He gave her another odd look. "Say, are you staying long? I'd like to introduce you to my girlfriend. Her name's Danika and she's absolutely lovely." Percy had gotten a dreamy look in his eyes and Ginny smiled softly at him. "I've been with her for the last year and I was thinking about asking her to marry me."

"Already?"

"Yes," Percy said firmly, his eyes focusing once again. "She's the one. I just know it. You'd like her."

"Well, I'm leaving tomorrow morning on a muggle plane, believe it or not, so maybe next time that I come over, which would be in about four weeks? I've decided that I'm coming over every month now…"

Percy nodded firmly. "That's a good decision. And, I forgot, but how are you doing after yesterday? I heard that Ron, well, he was his usual self," he added somewhat bitterly.

Ginny frowned. "You could say that," she murmured. "But I'm ignoring him. For now."

"Wise decision. Very wise. And I should have asked this earlier, but what are you doing here? I'm not holding you up, am I?"

Ginny peeked at her watch discretely. "I have an appointment with the Minister at eleven. Don't ask me why, though, because I have no idea."

"Well, in that case, Ginny, I'd better let you go. You don't want to be late for the Minister! And don't forget to owl me!"

It didn't take her very long to reach Kingsley's office, something that she was infinitely grateful for, and she rapped somewhat nervously on the door. She had been wracking her mind all morning as to why someone as important as Kingsley Shacklebolt wanted to talk to her, but she had come up with absolutely nothing.

"Come in," a deep voice from inside the office said to her and she stepped in cautiously, her face already wiped blank. "Miss Weasley," he said, his deep voice echoing around the rounded room as he gestured to a comfy chair that appeared in front of his desk, "take a seat."

Ginny did as she was told.

"Muggle clothing?"

"Yes, sir."

"Interesting…" he tapped his chin thoughtfully, his intelligent eyes examining her carefully. "Miss Weasley, you've probably been wondering as to why you've needed to come here, but I promise that you'll find out why soon. First though, how are you?"

"I'm fine, sir. And yourself?" Ginny said bemusedly, thinking that the whole situation seemed rather surreal.

"I'm stressed," he said finally, a wry smile gracing his lips. "Being the Minister for Magic was not a job that I wanted but a job that I was forced to take and I feel its toll every day. And how's your family? Arthur doesn't usually talk about you all that much, but this morning, I couldn't get him to shut up, because his daughter had apparently come back without warning. He was ecstatic."

Ginny shifted on the soft chair unnervingly, feeling her cheeks flush. "I admit that I haven't been in contact with them, sir, so I don't know how they really are."

"And that's because you've been in America for the last few years, is it not?"

Ginny inclined her head. "Yes, sir, although I have to say that my being in America was not my main reason for not contacting them."

"Family are fickle, aren't they," he mused to himself. "And do you like it there? Working for the Avengers?"

Ginny stared at him, only barely able to keep her face carefully blank at his admission. "And who told you that?"

The Minister smiled knowingly at her. "I have contacts all over the world, Miss Weasley, and when you're with a group as famous as the Avengers, well, it's difficult to stay completely under the radar."

Ginny sighed resignedly. "Well, in that case, then yes. I have been working with them."

"For how long?"

"For the last four months approximately."

"And what's your opinion on them?"

"They're…" Ginny searched for the right word, "difficult, I suppose you could say. And different. All of them have secrets, ugly pasts, are volatile and in some cases, extremely powerful, yet it works. For now."

"You don't think that it will last?"

She shrugged lightly. "In all honesty, I don't, sir."

"And did you find yourself working for them by accident?"

Ginny lifted an eyebrow at his implication. "I really don't think that I had the ability to bribe anyone at that point in my life, sir," she said dryly. "And even if I had the means to do so, getting hired by them was definitely on top of my list of things that I shouldn't do."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling softly around the room and he pushed himself out of his chair. "You have a point there, Miss Weasley," and he paused briefly. "As you know, the wizarding public is growing slightly… restless, I suppose you could say, regarding the Avengers. In particular the one who calls herself Scarlet Witch, is garnering a lot of attention. The ones named Vision and Thor are also causing some trouble and as the Minister for Magic, it's my job to do something about it and settle the dissent. I've already had several owls regarding the matter this morning already! So, Miss Weasley, I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to answer truthfully." He stared at her seriously and Ginny began to feel the slightest bit apprehensive under the weight of his gaze as he stopped pacing around his office. "Miss Weasley, should I bring the Avengers in on the wizarding world and if not, then what do you propose?"

* * *

Wanda stepped out of the conference room and sighed happily, glad that the ordeal was over and that she could finally relax. That had to be the worst part about being an Avenger… The lack of downtime. And the interviews. The interviews were definitely one of the worst things. Pietro, though, seemed to thrive under them and even the others tolerated them with elegant politeness, but she hid under short replies and small tense smiles like the coward that she was and she grimaced at the thought. There was that word again. Coward.

"You seem relieved, Wanda," the cool voice of Vision came back to her and she turned around to face him, giving him a hesitant smile as the android strode up to her.

"I'm not a fan of working with the press," she replied simply. "They are inquisitive and rude."

He laughed gently. "I won't deny that. But you did well today."

Wanda tilted her head to the side, thinking back to the awkward interview and the awkward words that were said and held back a grimace of distaste. "It could have been a lot better, but thank you for your compliment."

Vision gave her a look of confusion. "I thought that you performed quite admirably and I didn't notice anything uncomfortable about the interview at all."

"I have to agree, Wanda," Steve said, walking over to them. "That was your best interview yet."

She looked at the two dubiously. "You think so?"

"Definitely," Clint called out from the middle of his discussion with Natasha. "Best so far."

Wanda folded her arms across her chest, staring at them all suspiciously. "You're all just saying that, aren't you?"

"Nope," Tony said, joining the conversation with an obnoxious smile. "I actually have to agree with everyone else on this occasion. You did good." And he clapped her on the back, making her stumble slightly. She glared at him. "So, what are you doing this afternoon? I heard that a lovely redheaded secretary is meeting you and Sparky."

"She is. She's going to show us around London."

"Well, have fun with that."

"Thanks."

"I think it's nice that she, Ginny I mean, is opening up with you, you know," Sam said conversationally. "And that you're opening up with her. It's good. So when are you meeting her?"

Wanda glanced at her watch. "In fifteen in front of the studio here."

Clint nodded, coming over to them finally, Wanda noting privately that Natasha didn't look very impressed with his retreat. "Great. You know where the hotel is?"

Wanda nodded, giving Clint a soft smile. Out of all of the Avengers, Clint was the one whom she got on best with. He was understanding, protective, funny, and a good man. He was like… a surrogate father to Pietro and her. Yes, that's what he was even though Pietro wouldn't admit it as readily as she was able to. She hadn't met his family yet, but a part of her desperately hoped that she would be able to soon. She had seen the small pictures in his apartment dotted around the room. A tiny picture of his kids sitting on the dresser, a photo of him and his wife laughing at the camera poking out the ends of his wallet…

"Hey, Wanda? You with us?"

Wanda blinked. "Yes."

Clint gave her a look and she groaned inwardly to herself. He was going to demand an explanation later as to why she had phased out like that. Just another point to add to the long list of other points that made him like a father to her. God, she didn't deserve him.

"When will you be back at the hotel?"

Wanda shrugged. "Whenever we are finished," she replied.

"Yes," Pietro smirked suddenly. "We will be back whenever we are finished, _old man_ , or do you not trust us to be back before curfew?"

Clint rolled his eyes at Pietro and scowled at both of them. "You're both punks."

"But, come on, you love us," Pietro grinned. "So, we'll be going now and if we get lost, then we'll ring you so that you can come and get us. How's that?"

It was safe to say that Wanda wasn't the only one who snorted in amusement at his comment.

They waited outside of the studio for ten minutes before they saw her, but she wasn't alone. Ginny was dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans, a pair of sunglasses to combat the rare English sun sitting lightly on her head and her auburn hair loose and free, a few strands getting picked up by the light breeze. She looked pale, slightly stressed, and tired, but other than that, she had never looked so relaxed in all of the time that Wanda had known her. England was good for her, she thought dully and she felt a small stab of pain at the realisation; America, although Ginny had lived there for the past few years, would never be home for her.

"Hello," Ginny said cheerfully, surprising Wanda even further and she couldn't help but sneak a surreptitious glance in Pietro's direction. He was still annoyed at her for leaving, that much was obvious, but there was a hint of something else in his stare that Wanda didn't quite catch. Admiration? Or concern, perhaps? Wanda smirked to herself before focusing her gaze back on Ginny and her blushing friend. She would analyse Pietro at a later date. "This here is Hermione," Ginny continued casually, gesturing to the brunette standing next to her who wasn't even bothering to hide her disbelief. "I hope you don't mind that she's coming along. I told her that I was meeting with work colleagues, but she insisted on coming anyway. Plus, she knows London a lot better than I do."

Wanda smiled at Hermione. "Hello," she said quietly. "I'm Wanda and that there is Pietro. It's nice to meet you."

Hermione looked from one to the other, an eyebrow still expertly raised. "You could have told me that you were working for the Avengers, Ginny," Hermione accused playfully. "I would have put on something else."

Wanda decided that she liked Hermione already.

As they walked around London, Hermione did most of the talking, spouting out facts of when each of the major monuments was built and what they had been used for over the course of history. But Wanda was only half listening, too distracted by the fact that Hermione's thoughts were protected almost exactly the same way that Ginny's were. She reached out tentatively again with her mind, but was faced with the exact same problem that had plagued her before. A web of messy, tangled thoughts that couldn't be deciphered. What were the chances of that even happening? Not very high, Wanda thought to herself, giving the two young women in front of her an examining glance.

They both seemed normal enough, talking and laughing together, but there was something bubbling underneath that perfect surface. Something mysterious and painful and oddly dangerous. For the first time, Wanda wondered if Natasha was correct. What if Ginny really was a spy for some secret organisation and what if her friend was one as well? What if this was a trap? A ploy?

Immediately, Wanda felt horribly guilty at the thought. Ginny wasn't a spy.

"What are you thinking about?"

Pietro's question startled Wanda and she turned to him, an accusing expression on her face. "Don't surprise me like that," she muttered, brushing her back anxiously with one hand. "And I was just thinking about Ginny."

"Ginny?" Pietro shot a look towards the redhead, another look that Wanda didn't recognise. "Why?"

"I was just thinking …" she took a deep breath and turned to him somewhat desperately, speaking the next words in her native language, "what if Natasha is correct."

Pietro looked at her quizzically. "What makes you say that?" he answered sharply in the same tongue.

Wanda shrugged uncomfortably. "Just a feeling," she replied softly. "I just… feel like she isn't who she says she is. She's more than just a secretary."

Pietro glanced at Ginny carefully. "She is hiding something," he mused and his gaze turned back to Wanda. "But we all have secrets, do we not? I mean, look at Natasha. We have worked with her the last several months, yet we barely know a thing about her. She is blank, like a canvas, able to transform into anyone that she wishes to be." He took a deep breath, his eyes glancing back to Ginny who was smiling softly at something that Hermione had said, and this time, Wanda didn't miss the emotions that flickered across Pietro's face. Admiration. Warmth. Acceptance. "What I'm saying is, is that it's unfair to place suspicion on Ginny, when we all have things that are buried so deep in our pasts that we would much rather forget about them. Maybe she isn't who she says she is," he shrugged, "but are any of us really who we say we are in the end? Because I don't think that we are."

Wanda nodded slowly and sighed. "I can see your point," she said finally. "So you really think that she's not a threat?"

Pietro raised an eyebrow at Wanda and said grimly, "Everyone's a threat, Wanda. Everyone. It just depends on how threatening they can really be and Ginny, although I don't really want to admit it, is as just as much as a threat to anyone else in the Avengers. Why? And this is where I can almost agree with Natasha, because she has access to us, our histories, our lives. She could easily sell us out, be working for someone else, but she won't. She's not that type of person, regardless of who she really is or isn't."

* * *

Ginny was distracted, her mind still swirling with the words from her conversation with Kingsley. Merlin, never had she thought that he would ever ask something like that to her. Ever. And it was unnerving. How did someone even answer a question like that? And she scowled to herself.

 _"_ _Miss Weasley, should I bring the Avengers in on the Wizarding World and if not, then what do you propose? Because as you might know, the public is demanding that I do something about this, as does the American Ministry; their wizarding public don't seem to have a problem at all with the Avengers."_

 _"_ _I, uh," Ginny stuttered, momentarily speechless. "Sir, I really don't think that I'm qualified to answer a question like that."_

 _"_ _Please, Miss Weasley, speak your mind. All of the advisors in this place tell me one thing and then another, but I'd rather hear an opinion from someone who works with them."_

 _"_ _I…" Ginny stuttered. "I suppose that I would have to get to know them a little bit more, but at this point in time, I would have to advise against it. They're volatile and still raw from the incident in Sokovia and Ultron and I don't think that it would do much good to add any more wood to that fire. However, I think, that in the future maybe, that it might be an option to… maybe bring them in and set up a team with them. We would take care of anything magical related or anything that needs to stay dark and they would take care of the big things. Or perhaps we pick someone from our side who acts as a liaison between the two groups." Ginny shrugged lightly. "I don't know though. I would have to get to know them a lot more and see how mentally prepared they would be to accept something like that."_

 _Kingsley sat back in his chair, his hands folded thoughtfully in front of his chin as he heard Ginny out. "I'm interested," he said finally. "Especially in the idea of there being a collaborative team between us and the Avengers or, as you put it, a liaison between the two sides. But, Miss Weasley, would you be up for something like that if it came down to it? Because, seeing as it's your idea and because you are working for Avengers, I would want you to run the team and or be a liaison between them and us."_

 _"_ _I…" Once again, Ginny was unsure how to answer. She had just pushed herself back into magic. She was still experimenting, stretching her wings, and coming back to terms with her own abilities. Would she be able to handle something like that? "I don't know, sir," she admitted quietly. "I really don't know."_

"Excuse me?"

Ginny stopped walking abruptly and looked around herself in confusion. She was sure that she had heard someone…

"Excuse me," the voice said again and, this time, Ginny looked down to see a little girl tugging on her jeans. She was looking up at Ginny with wide, excited eyes, an awed smile spreading across her smile, her own red hair floating in the wind. A small doll was hanging by one of her arms in one of the girl's small hands. She had to be at least six years old and Ginny quickly found herself wondering where her parents were.

"If you're looking for my Mummy and Daddy, then they're over there," she said, pointing to a small but charming looking café at the end of the street. Ginny followed her finger and smiled at the waving couple that were obviously the parents of the girl. "Anyway," she said, smiling happily, turning her green gaze back on Ginny, "you're Ginny Weasley, aren't you? You're the one who-"

Ginny laughed nervously, flicking a cautious glance towards Pietro and Wanda who still seemed to be in a deep discussion, the lilting Sokovian language flowing effortlessly off of their tongues. She switched her attention back to the little girl, satisfied that Pietro and Wanda, at least for the time being, wouldn't be listening in. "That would be me. And what's your name?"

If possible, the little girl's dimpled smile became even wider. "I'm Ellie," she said proudly. "And you're my favourite person. Well, my favourite person after my mummy, my daddy, and my brother."

Ginny lifted an eyebrow, a soft smile touching the edges of her lips as she knelt down to properly face her. "And what on earth did I do to deserve that title?"

"You saved my big brother," she said in a very matter of fact tone. "In the big fight, you saved my brother."

Ginny couldn't remember. There had been so many faces that day. So many different faces of the living and the dead and Ginny felt her breath catch in her throat as she swallowed hard.

"You saved his life," Ellie continued seriously. "And because of you, I still have my big brother."

"And your brother?" Ginny asked hesitantly, shooting an uneasy glance towards Hermione who simply beamed encouragingly at her. "What's his name?"

"Peter," she stated. "He was in second year, but he couldn't escape in time and then he said that someone named Ginny saved his life. And then I saw your picture in the paper yesterday and he saw your picture in the paper and then I really wanted to meet you and now I have!"

"Well, it's very nice to have met you, Ellie," Ginny said quietly. "Say hello to your brother for me."

"I will," she said, looking uncertain before surging unexpectedly forward, her arms reaching across Ginny's shoulders in a hug.

For a moment, Ginny was completely frozen; she had never been hugged by a little girl before. But then and again, she had never expected to be hugged by a little girl. Especially not for her efforts in that bloody, gruesome war. But it seemed that something good had come out of it after all. Was it wrong to feel relieved? Was it wrong to feel relieved about the single life that she had managed to save despite all of the destruction and no doubt countless deaths that she herself was responsible for? Absently, she felt wetness begin to gather in her eyes and she sniffed in slight embarrassment as Ellie finally stepped away, the joyful light in her eyes fading to curiosity as she took in Ginny's tears.

"Why are you crying?"

Ginny laughed ruefully, wiping at her eyes. "I'm crying because I'm so happy to have met you, Ellie," she murmured. "Thank you."

"So do you still save lives? Do you still save lives like you saved my brother's life?"

Ellie's innocent question was like a punch to the gut and Ginny was reminded of her past goals. She had once wanted to become an auror, to be one of those people that helped those who were in need, those who fought for what was right. But then she had fled, like the coward that she was. Like that coward that she _had_ been. Unconsciously, her hands clenched into tight fists, as she slowly got back to her feet.

She was with the Avengers, for Merlin's sake! She had a chance to do good! And now, with Kingsley's request hanging over her shoulder, she had no better opportunity to thrust herself back into that magical, supernatural world of chaos, danger, and adrenaline. And with that, Ginny made up her mind. The time was right. It was time to prove that she really was the Gryffindor that everyone believed that she was. It was time to prove, not only to herself, that she was capable as being just as powerful as she was before. The road wasn't going to be easy, but she could do it. She had done it before, so she could do it again.

"I'm not saving lives at the moment," Ginny said simply, her brown eyes staring into the bright green ones of Ellie, "but I will be. I will be."

* * *

"I liked your friend," Wanda commented lightly to Ginny, taking a small sip of her tea. The three of them were sitting at a café on a street that was just off of the main road, sitting casually in the standard seats. Hermione had left only minutes before, claiming that she had work to do and with Hermione's job – she was an Unspeakable – Ginny believed her. "She seemed very nice. I hope to meet her again. Who was the little girl though? She seemed to know you."

Ginny almost hadn't heard Wanda's words. "She's the daughter of a family friend," she muttered distractedly. "I've met her brother, but never her."

"Why did she make you cry?"

Pietro's words were the first words that he had spoken to her all afternoon and Ginny glanced at him in surprise.

"This does not mean that I am no longer cross with you," he added reproachfully, "but I want to know."

"She reminded me of something that I did," Ginny said shortly, picking up her mug of coffee and attempting to hide behind it. "It happened a while ago. So, what was your favourite part about London? Personally, I'm not much of a fan. It's too loud, too busy, too expensive for my taste."

Ginny didn't miss the subtle sidelong glance that the two siblings passed to one another and for a brief moment, Ginny wondered whether they were really going to ignore her abrupt change of subject.

"It's dirty," Wanda said finally.

"I agree," Pietro said, laying back comfortably in his chair and eyeing Ginny with a blank, measured look. "So, how are you feeling after you decided to leave the hospital?"

Ginny heard Wanda sigh surreptitiously to herself. "Are we really going to talk about this now?" she said tiredly. "It's just, currently, I have other things on my mind."

Pietro, however, simply glanced around himself exaggeratedly and stared at Ginny, annoyance beginning to colour his cheeks. "I don't see a better time."

Ever since Ginny had set eyes on Pietro earlier that afternoon, he had kept sending her looks that ranged from highly concerned to extremely angry. Each time that he had sent her a look like that, Ginny had waited for him to say something. And now, well, she was still waiting. And she was sick of it.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, it's not that hard to understand," Ginny snapped finally and she slammed her mug of coffee on the table, ignoring the disapproving stares of the customers around her. "Yes, I was sick and yes, it was serious at the time. But it is no longer serious and I discharged myself because I had to be here for the bloody memorial ceremony for my brother, my mother, my boyfriend, and countless other friends and enemies of mine! I had a duty," she hissed and to her horror, for the second time that day, she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, "and nothing was going to stop me from coming here. Absolutely nothing. So if you were looking for a sodding apology, then you're not getting one." She stood up sharply, shoving a few pounds on the table and deliberately looked away from Pietro. "Here's what I owe. And I'm sorry, Wanda, that I ruined your afternoon. I'll see if I can get someone to take you back to where you're staying."

Wanda was silent for a moment and Ginny turned to leave, but Wanda's soft voice stopped her mid-step. "Are you staying at the hotel tonight?"

Ginny turned around slowly and shook her head. "I'm still staying with a friend tonight."

Wanda nodded slowly. "But you'll be on the plane back with us tomorrow morning, yes?"

Ginny wavered for the briefest second. "I have a couple of things to do in the morning still. A couple of loose ends that need tying up, specifically with a certain brother of mine," she added bitterly. "So, I may not make it. What time is the flight out again?"

"The flight leaves at 11:40 from one of the private airfields. We all have to be there by at least 11:15."

Ginny nodded again and said a curt goodbye to Wanda before disappearing around one of London's many corners.

"Ginny."

Merlin, she should have known that he would have followed her. "Go away."

"Ginny."

"Leave me alone."

"Look," Pietro said quietly, "I didn't know about-"

"There's a reason for that, Pietro. There's a reason why no one knows anything about me." She stopped her furious pace and simply stood in the middle of the pathway, allowing herself, for the first time in a long time, to get pushed around by the people who were walking around her. She closed her eyes. An elbow here. A stumble there. It was so easy to lose herself in the crowd, just like she was losing herself to her own thoughts. They were whirling around in her head, confusing her and drawing her deeper into the mess of consciousness that was her own mind. She was so close to breaking. So close. And after the week that she had had? Well, she thought resentfully, it wasn't going to take much. She just hoped, that out of everyone, that Pietro wouldn't be the one to witness it. "Please don't tell anyone."

"I won't. But you shouldn't keep it to yourself. You'll go crazy."

Ginny laughed a watery laugh. "I already am."

"I was worried about you. That's why I asked. I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry. It's just that," he said, frustration evident in his voice, "that night when you collapsed, I thought that you were going to die. We all thought so. And I was the one who saw you go through that. In the car…"

Ginny shook her head ever so slightly. "Why do you care," she heard herself whisper. "I'm rude, selfish and a complete and utter bitch. To all of you. Why the hell do you even care what happens to me?"

"I, I mean, _we_ ," he corrected himself, "care because you have all of those qualities. You're not afraid to speak what's on your mind and you get stuff done. You're strong and determined and because of that, you're one of us. You may not be officially on the team, but you're always there, telling us to get off of our asses and finish our reports or glaring at us when we break something because you're the one who has to organise its repair. Look, I know that you don't like any of us, but you don't have to. But we're willing to try if you are. Don't forget, though, that sharing is a… how do you people say? A two way street?"

Ginny finally spun around to face Pietro, her eyes narrowing at his slightly sheepish expression. "Since when did you get so wise?"

"I've always been this way," he said dramatically. "You just didn't see it before."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she muttered. "Whatever. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

* * *

 **Happy Easter everyone! I hope that everyone has had a great day!  
First up, thanks for all of the new follows, favourites, and reviews! You're all amazing!  
To the guests: Thanks you for your support! I'm really happy that you're all enjoying the story and I hope that you continue to do so in the future!  
To Ande: Thank you for your review! You flatter me with your praise! Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and that it met your expectations :) Thank you again!  
To dalliene: Hmmm... All I shall say is that your questions shall be answered in the future :D However, I shall say that there will be a point in the story where they all meet each other. I haven't written it yet and I don't know it's going to go, but it's in the planning stages! Anyway, thanks for your lovely review!  
** **To aromatictruth: Thanks for your review and I hope that you keep enjoying the story!**

 **Second, if you spotted any mistakes within this chapter, then please message me and I shall endeavour to fix it!**

 **Third, thank you to everyone who wished me luck at my interview! It went well (I think), so hopefully I've got myself a place there.**

 **Lastly, as some of you may have noticed, this chapter was dedicated to the victims of the Brussels attacks. Please, everyone, keep the people of those affected in your thoughts.**

 **HauntedCinders**

 **P.S. I may or may not be updating multiple times this week.  
**


	14. Chapter 14

**_First of the extra updates. I hope you enjoy!_**

* * *

Questions are only offensive to those who have something to hide.

 _Gary Hopkins_

* * *

 _"_ _I'll do it."_

 _Kingsley gave her a bemused stare. "You'll do what, Miss Weasley?"_

 _"_ _I'll become a liaison between this world and theirs," she stated bluntly. "It'll take time, though. I'm going to need to bring myself back up to par both physically and magically and I'm going to have get to know them. But after that, then the way's clear and then we can decide if a liaison is all we need."_

 _Kingsley stared at her silently for a moment. "In all honesty, Miss Weasley, I wasn't expecting you to come through, but I'm glad that you have done. I don't think that there's anyone else who's better suited to this type of job."_

 _Ginny paused and tilted her head. "I surprised myself as well, sir, but something happened yesterday that made me aware… of how much I can still offer both this world and their world and I want to be a part of that."_

 _Kingsley peered at her interestedly. "May I ask what happened that made you come to this decision?"_

 _Ginny didn't even hesitate in her reply. "A little girl thanked me. A little girl came up to me yesterday and thanked me for saving her brother. You know, after the war, I was so caught up in the things that had gone wrong, the things that I myself had done, that I forgot about the things that had gone right and it just made me realise…" Ginny took a deep breath and stared at Kingsley unwaveringly, "that I have so much more to give."_

* * *

It was only hours after they had all arrived back at the facility that Ginny stalked into the gym furiously, gym bag over her shoulder, scowl on her face, and her hair tied up in a messy knot on the top of her head. She completely ignored the stares that she was attracting from various corners of the large gym and just kept marching towards her goal: the punching bags. She had discovered them just the other day when she had been investigating the gym, before that disastrous party. Technically, she hadn't really been looking for them, but they had found her anyway. And now she was damn glad that she had.

She dropped her gym bag carelessly on the ground near the large mat and sat down next to it, grabbing her tape and her iPod from the depths of it – the iPod had been a gift from Andrews for her birthday. She made quick work of her hands before placing the buds of her earphones in her ears, starting one of her more vicious playlists and getting up to stomp over to the punching bag. She breathed in deeply and pulled a fist back to her face, her eyes glued on the gently swaying bright red sack, already envisioning just how exactly she was going to hit it.

"You know how to punch that thing?"

Ginny flicked her eyes over to the intruder in slight annoyance. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you are," he admitted slowly. "But do you know how to punch?" Clint looked at her seriously and she sighed to herself internally, lowering her fists to her sides and turning off her music as she stared at the archer. Although Ginny was beginning to interact just that little bit more with each of the Avengers, she was surprised to realise that out of all of them, Clint was the one that she had interacted with the least, a fact that only made her feel a little bit guilty. She vowed to talk to him more. He seemed nice.

"I know how to punch. I was taught."

"By your brothers?"  
Ginny raised an eyebrow, wondering how he had found out about that before reluctantly remembering that she had told Pietro a couple of weeks ago and she suddenly wondered what else Pietro had told the rest of the Avengers… If he had told them about her mother and her friends as well, then there was no way that he was going to ever drag his sorry ass back up from heel. "I suppose," she said somewhat distractedly, "although I have to say that it was more of a mixture of people who taught me. Mainly though, it was myself, a couple of friends, and then another friend."

Clint was silent for a moment and Ginny hoped that he wouldn't say anything on her deliberate and very obvious evasiveness. Besides, she didn't want to talk about her past friends anyway. Not after that stupid, disgusting letter that had just arrived from a git named Ronald Weasley. She was convinced that he would come round. Eventually. Maybe in several years, but one day, it would happen, so for now, but not much longer, she would endure his immature temper tantrums.

"Well, all right," Clint conceded finally, stepping back coolly and gesturing to the bag. "Show me what you got. Pick any sequence that you choose."

Ginny looked back towards the bag and, feeling incredibly self-conscious, raised her fists once again. She focused her thoughts, her breath, and shut her eyes briefly, recalling the reasons that had brought her to the gym in the first place. And with that in mind, she punched the bag with everything that she had. But she didn't stop after one. No, instead, she kept going, spinning and treading lightly on the balls of her feet as she kicked and struck the bag with the power and elegance of a dancer. It seemed, that despite her lack of practice, Andrews' own training had held firm.

Slowly, the dim colours of the gym faded into heavyset stonewalls and the bag turned into the vague shape of a Death Eater, and she found herself fighting for her life. She felt adrenaline pump and raw magic through her veins as she fought for her life under the cloudy sky of the Great Hall. A howling wind, bringing with it the distinct, metallic scent of blood, raked through the Hall and she felt an extreme feeling of desperation and desolation as the gale rushed through the corridors of her beloved school and she vaguely wondered what the death count now was. One hundred? More? She swallowed hard at the sickening thought and forced her mind to concentrate on the situation at hand, determined to win. In fact, to put it more bluntly, she had to win. She had to win if she wanted to live. She ducked a fist. She had never really been taught much self-defence, except for what she had learnt through the DA, and although she had been originally sceptical that a wizard or witch would ever require the skills of hand to hand combat, she had never been more grateful for those few lessons in her life. She made a mental note to thank the fifth year later. If she was still alive and in that moment, she wasn't sure whether she was referring to herself or the fifth year.

* * *

Clint watched as the slight redhead leapt at the bag, not expecting the ferocity with which she attacked the worn plastic. He watched her carefully, analysing and assessing the movements of the young secretary. Her technique wasn't nearly as refined or as polished as many of the recruits at the facility, but she clearly knew what she was doing if the fierce vicious punches and kicks were anything to go by. For a moment, Clint was tempted to stop her as her attacks became even more ferocious than before, but she had come in here for a reason and he was going to wait to talk to her until after she was done. He smiled ruefully to himself at the thought. When Natasha had still been a new, treacherous recruit at the academy and her habits and nature had not yet been fully known, Clint had – extremely foolishly – gone up to her once while she was in the middle of an extremely brutal workout with one of the punching bags. He had swaggered up to her, tapped her arrogantly on the shoulder and had opened his mouth to say something only for him to get a rather savage fist in the face. It was safe to say that he had learned from that experience and would definitely not be repeating anything of the sort with Ginny Prewett.

He looked at Ginny again, this time only concentrating on her face. Tight, wild brown eyes that spoke of hidden danger and well kept secrets, a determined yet fearful scowl on her lips, and the distressed creasing of pale orange eyebrows. It didn't take a genius to see that she was working through some serious shit and Clint couldn't help but wonder what it was, because it was very much true that he and the others barely knew a thing about her. After all, her file – which Stark had investigated with extreme thoroughness – told only of a normal, loving family, more than a few brothers, a standard education, and a couple of miscellaneous jobs. Her reports cards had been perfectly average, the lives of her brothers had been just as average, except for the few that had entered the British army, and even her parents had standard lives, with her mother being the owner of a small bakery and her father working in an antique shop. There hadn't even been a single death in her family; her grandparents on both her mother's and her father's side were still alive. But that was the first mistake, the first reveal that she wasn't who her file said she was, because they all knew that at least one of brothers had died in some war that they knew nothing about it. That was, after all, the reason why she had so spontaneously gone back to England, he suspected and Clint's eyes narrowed at the thought.

It wasn't the false details in the file that were bothering him, though, more like the person behind them. In her file, she was perfect. He entire life was perfect, all but filled with shit eating rainbows and glittering sparkles, but when he looked at her now, he saw a troubled, desperate young woman that was hitting a punching bag as though she were in a fight for her life. A normal girl, the girl that her file described, didn't do that. Vaguely, Clint wondered if Ginny was a threat before determining that he was stupid if he didn't consider her to be one. Besides, in their own way, every single person on the whole fucking planet was a threat. The only different was, was that some were more dangerous than others. Ginny, he decided, was perhaps more dangerous than most, starting with the discrepancies with her actions and the words in her file. But, at the same time, she had had months to do something and she had done nothing.

"Why are you here?" he found himself asking suddenly.

His question seemed to bring Ginny out of whatever dark place her mind had taken her and she froze, spinning around to look at him, her eyes strangely and oddly bright.

"What?"

Clint cleared his throat and stepped cautiously forward. "Why are you here?" he asked again.

She snorted bitterly. "I'm here because I was recommended by Ms Potts to work under the Avengers Initiative."

Clint nodded slowly. Her answer had been expected. The truth, yes. But the right one? That was debatable. "That's true, but why are _you_ here?"

"I just told you."

"No, you didn't."

Ginny sighed and fiddled with her taped hands that were now chafed and red. "I'm here because I had nowhere else to go," she said finally, her eyes connecting with Clint's. She shrugged lightly. "Things weren't really working out in England, so I decided to give somewhere else a try. I enquired to a couple of places and left. So here I am."

Her answer, while obviously still not the whole truth, was one of the most honest answers that he had received from the girl so Clint decided to let it go. For now.

"So," he motioned to the still swinging punching bag, "bad day?"

Ginny chuckled severely and switched her attention back to the red plastic. "You could say that, but I won't bore you with the details."

Clint nodded, taking note of the subtle warning that lay behind Ginny's words. Honestly, he still didn't understand why Natasha didn't like her when they were all but related. Red hair, ice personalities, trust issues. God, they were practically sisters. "Fair enough. But do you want a couple of tips on your technique?"

Ginny shrugged. "Sure."

Clint stepped onto the mat. "A while ago, you told Nat that you had never studied self-defence before."

"Well, technically," she admitted, "I haven't. Not formally anyway. So it wasn't really a lie." She looked at him suddenly and Clint was surprised to see the underlying determination and resolve that hid there. "But I want to learn now."

He smirked at her, telling her to raise her arms in her start position, and decided to ignore her sudden craving to learn to fight. "You sure about that?"

She grinned at him, the first genuine smile that he had ever seen from her, and said simply, "Bring it."

Clint worked with Ginny for the next few hours who was, unsurprisingly, a very astute student. It was clear that she had had some experience with fighting before – the brutal punches that she dealt was proof enough – but her style was crude, basic, and rushed and even though she had good reflexes, they were wasted due to her sloppy and messy skill and so he gave her all of the pointers that he was able. It was different, he realized, to be on the other side of the mat as he told her, once again, to raise her elbows. Normally, it was him that was getting his ass handed to him by Natasha or in the past, Coulson, and while he had done some training with new recruits, he had mainly stayed away from them. As such, this new point of view was a surprisingly enjoyable one and was something that he hadn't originally thought that he would like; only a selected few on the planet were cut out to be a teacher after all. He snickered to himself. Laura would find it hilariously funny when he told her about it, especially seeing as he had ranted to her a couple of years ago that he was the last person in the world who would ever want to be a teacher.

"Hey Ginny!"

The familiar voice made Ginny and Clint look up and then glare when they realized who it was that had disturbed them. Pietro, however, who was sauntering over to the punching bags, seemed oblivious to their sudden hostility and he grinned superiorly at Clint as he approached.

"I didn't know you were giving out lessons, old man," he teased. "You should have told me. I would have come along."

Clint simply raised an eyebrow and bit down on the amusement that rose in him. "It was spontaneous. And you already receive training. Something, if I'm not mistaken," Clint said, with a surreptitious glance at his watch, "you should be doing right now, seeing as you have a date with the simulation room."

"That's where I was heading." He turned his attention to Ginny. "You want to watch?"

Clint wasn't surprised when she shook her head, although he was sure that she had hesitated ever so slightly in her reply.

"I have somewhere to be," she said, her voice clipped and tight once again.

Pietro shrugged, but Clint didn't miss the cautious – and disappointed? – glance that he gave the redhead. Wait, what? Clint looked at the Sokovian again. Disappointment? Pietro? Surely there was no way that he…

Clint smirked in sudden glee, watching as Pietro glared briefly and unnecessarily at the ground. Oh, he did! Pietro Maximoff, one of the most sought after men in the nation due to his heroism and 'good looks', had a crush on the stubborn, prickly Ginny Prewett! Oh, this was just too good. No wonder he had been so sullen when Ginny had upped and left to England without informing anybody except Wanda. And that was why he had visited her every single day in the hospital room when she had been ill. At first, Clint had thought that Pietro had just felt guilty and had only gone there to try and make himself feel better, but it seemed, if his current reaction was anything to go by, that there was something more than that in this entire mess.

"Are you sure, Prewett?" Clint asked Ginny slyly. "I mean, some of the simulations are pretty interesting and as the secretary to this sorry group, it might be a good thing to actually see the things that we train with." Clint shrugged underhandedly. "I'm sure that what you have planned can wait."

Ginny properly hesitated this time. "Oh fine," she muttered finally. "I'll go and watch."

And Clint smirked at Pietro, who simply gave him a rude glower. This was going to be good to watch.

"Clint!"

Clint whipped around and raised an unexpected eyebrow at the soldier who was jogging towards him. "What's up, Cap? I thought that you were on mission."

"It was cancelled at last minute, but I wasn't going to talk to you about that." And he nodded towards the retreating back of Ginny Prewett. "How's she doing? She's got a mean punch and kick combination."

Clint snickered. "I didn't think that she had it in her, to be honest, but it makes me wonder if Nat has been right about her this entire time."

Steve shrugged. "Maybe she has been, but if she really were here to hurt us, then I think that she would have done it a long time ago, don't you think?"

Clint nodded slowly. "Yeah… I can see your point. What's Sam think about her?"

Steve still hadn't taken his thoughtful gaze off of Ginny. "He knows that something's up. He told me the other day that she has a look in her eyes, a look that he sees in the eyes of the soldiers that come back from a tour and to be honest, I can't disagree with him, because it's the same look that the soldiers back in the war had. I don't know how I didn't see it before, but now… It seems so obvious. I know that Nat wants to force her, but in the end, I think that she'll come to us. It's only a matter of time, I think, before something happens."

Clint nodded slowly. "I think that I have to agree there. I think that I have to agree."

* * *

The simulation room didn't look anything like it had done all of those months ago. Back then, there had been tape, plaster, flapping taupes, and all types of other building materials stacked all over the place. Simply put, it had been an ugly, haphazard mess. But now? Well, it looked very different, Ginny recognised dully, as she walked cautiously into a room that looked over the main studio.

"Pietro," Natasha said brusquely, turning around "nice of you to show up." Natasha paused before she nodded stiffly to Ginny. "Prewett."

Ginny nodded back at Natasha, who was sitting on a hard looking seat in front of a large, glass control panel with her regulation uniform on. Ginny still had no idea how the women in this place could stand wearing something like that. It just looked so… uncomfortable. And revealing. Ginny didn't know if she'd ever have the guts to wear something like that.

"This is the control room," Pietro commented lightly, looking back at Ginny. "I can adjust the settings to the simulation with this here," and he gestured to a large screen. "We all have our own personalised training sessions, but we can adjust the difficulty. We can come in here whenever we want, but there should always be another person watching, ready to adjust the simulation if it gets to difficult or is too easy. That's why Natasha is here."

Ginny walked slowly towards the panel, beginning to feel just the slightest bit interested in what was about to occur and sat down in the seat next to Natasha.

"There are cameras in the simulation room that show footage on these computers here," Pietro said, pointing to several TV screens that lined one of the walls. "They're so that we can look back later and analyse our technique. It's how we improve."

"Cool," Ginny murmured, her eyes running over the high tech gear that covered every inch of the room. "And can anyone use this place? Or is it just designed for the people who are actually on the team?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow at her. "Thinking of having a go, Prewett?" she asked, not bothering to disguise an underlying tone of threat in her voice.

"Me?" Ginny snorted. "God no. I'd end up as a shrivelled mess on the floor."

And just like that, at Natasha's comment and her own vehement response, the realisation struck Ginny like a lightning bolt and she didn't know how she could have missed it before. She could use this, this simulation room, for getting back in shape. She could adjust it to her own settings, erase the data from her sessions, and ease herself back into using magic. No one would find out and she would get the training that she needed.

It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

"Well in that case," Natasha said, breaking Ginny out of her thoughts, " then yes, anyone can use this, as long as they have the correct passcode and as long as it's free at the time." She paused and glared over at Pietro, who was looking for too pleased with himself as he snapped a band around his wrist. "So, Pietro, are you getting in or do I have to drag you in there?"

"I'm going, I'm going," he protested and he zipped into the area in front of the control room. It was large, all of the walls covered with large silver panels which, Ginny assumed, would be used in creating the actual simulation. In each of the corners on both the floor and the ceiling, there was a small camera.

"What was the band for?" Ginny wanted to know, deciding to forgo any animosity that she had with the spy.

"Vitals," Natasha replied grudgingly, tapping something on the screen. "I saw you in the gym. I thought that you said that you didn't know self-defence."

"I don't. I just punch and jab and see where it gets me."

"Well, your technique needs work. If you meet me tomorrow morning, I'll show you where you can improve."

Ginny leant back in her chair and eyes Natasha suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

Natasha shrugged simply. "No catch. It's just come to my attention how little I actually know about you."

Ginny didn't miss the jab in Natasha's voice.

"But you hate me," Ginny said bluntly.

"I don't hate you. I just don't trust you. There's a difference. And I'm not being nice. I'm simply offering you a hand so that one day, if you ever find yourself in a dark alley, you won't die."

"Well, in that case," Ginny muttered, "thanks."

Natasha smiled a devil's grin. "Don't mention it. And by the way, don't think that we haven't noticed the discrepancies in your story. According to your file, you're perfect, but according to what you've said… Well, that's something else entirely. So, I would watch what you say in the future, if you want to keep your job."

Ginny sat back up again. "Are you threatening me?"

Natasha turned to Ginny, her blue eyes piercing into Ginny's. "I'm warning you." Her eyes flicked back to the screen and she tapped something again. "You ready, Maximoff?" she asked into a microphone off to the side. Pietro nodded from inside and Natasha nodded to herself, before pressing something else on the display. "I know that you're hiding something. We all know."

"And what? You aren't?" Ginny challenged.

Natasha tapped something else. "But I'm not talking about myself, am I? No, I'm talking about you and I'm warning you. You're on a fine line, Prewett, so if I were you, I'd watch it."

"Well, what if I don't want to watch it? What if I do whatever the hell I want to?"

"Then," Natasha said softly, "I suppose that we'll be seeing each other on the opposite sides of a piece of glass."

Ginny scoffed. "You're just going to assume that I'm a threat?"

"Miss Prewett, in this world, everyone is a threat. It just depends where they fall on the danger scale."

Ginny sat in silence for the rest of the session, ignoring Natasha's self satisfied smirk and barely focusing on the silvery movements of Pietro as he ran around the simulation room, carrying people to safety as virtual buildings collapsed around him.

* * *

"So, what did you think?" Pietro grinned at Ginny superiorly as they walked out of the gym.

"It was… interesting," Ginny concluded. "I think that it's incredible how the simulation works. It all looks so real." A reason why, she added privately to herself, it was going to be such good practice for her. After all, the more real that it was, the better it was going to be in the long run.

Pietro snorted. "It feels real, as well. I swear," he complained, "I have gotten so many bruises from that thing."

Ginny rolled her eyes to heaven. "Poor you."

Pietro chuckled. "So, what were you doing with Clint? And have you forgiven me yet?"

"He was giving me a couple of pointers. And no. I mean, you can't just expect that an apology will make everything all right again after you burst into my room unannounced and then acted like a complete and utter asshole."

"You know, I am sorry about that," Pietro said softly, his voice ringing with sincerity.

"If I could take it back, I would. I was just-"

"Distraught? Yeah, yeah, I get it, but, Pietro, it's not an excuse. So, until you can prove to me that you can actually be level headed, then I won't forgive you. It's that simple."

Pietro fell silent. "I understand," he said finally. "And I respect your decision. Really, I do."

"Thank you. I'm glad that we understand each other."

"So, what are you doing tonight?"

"Sleeping," Ginny said dead panned. "And you?"

"I'm going to meet up with some of the other agents. Do you want to come? I mean, I know that your schedule is already busy; sleep is hard to come by after all," he smirked. "But do you think that you could fit something else into that busy calendar of yours?"

"I'm afraid not, because besides sleeping, I actually have work to do; there's another press conference that I have to organise for you lot. And a whole bunch of emails that I have to send to all of the people that hosted you all in Britain. So, unfortunately, no. I don't have time in my calendar to fit you in."

"Oh well then," Pietro sighed theatrically. "Another time perhaps."

Ginny smiled and small smile and nodded. "Another time perhaps."

"And how are you doing?"

Ginny was taken aback at the unexpected question and she shot him a quizzical look, hoping that he didn't mean what she thought that he meant. "What do you mean, 'how am I doing'?"

"I think that you already know what I mean," Pietro said, his electric blue eyes unexpectedly demure and serious. Although, Gunny supposed, she shouldn't have been surprised that Pietro Maximoff could actually be serious. London had shown that all too well. "I want to know how you are doing after being in England. It mustn't have been easy… facing your family again."

"I…" Ginny didn't know what to say. "I guess that you could say that." Her voice sounded slightly strangled even to her own ears.

"You know, when you are ready to tell the truth, I will listen."

Ginny nearly groaned. What was it with all of the people who were suddenly demanding that she be honest? "Who said that I'm not telling the truth?"

Pietro shrugged. "I don't know. But it is obvious, especially now that I know that all of the details in your file are a lie. Some of the people here think that you are a threat, but I don't think so. If you were, you would have done something a long time ago."

Ginny had to admit that a part of her was incredibly pleased with the faith that Pietro had in her.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and there shall be more coming later this week! I just decided, seeing as I won't be updating when I do my finals which are in less than four weeks, that I should make up for that in these holidays, seeings as I have a little bit of extra time.**

 **Thanks to all of the new follows, reviews, and favourites! I can't believe how many I've gotten and when I see the notifications crop up in my inbox, I always grin like a maniac.  
To Luna Lestrange: It makes me happy that you enjoyed the family stuff from the previous chapter! And as for your other question, well I guess (hopefully) that it was answered in this chapter! Thank you again for your support :)  
To Katrina: Thanks for the lovely review! I'm really glad that you're enjoying the story!  
To CasseyRose: I grinned when I read your review. Honestly, you flatter me. Anyway, thank you for the review and it's awesome that you're liking the story!**

 **I hope that you all had a lovely Easter and I shall update again at some point during the week with at least one (maybe two) extra chapters!**

 **You're all awesome!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	15. Chapter 15

**To all of my lovely guests who only check on Sundays: I did an additional update during the week which you might want to read before this one.**

* * *

Someone once asked me, "Why do you always insist on taking the hard road."

I replied, "Why do you assume I see two roads?"

 _Author Unknown_

* * *

The pictures that had covered the pages of magazines, the clips that had played over and over again on news channels… None of them could prepare Ginny for the unexpected yet wild, pulsing red that soared around the simulation chamber. The air was throbbing with electricity and Ginny felt the hairs on her arms rise as she stepped cautiously into the control room, watching silently as Wanda cut down hostile after hostile, spinning in elegantly dangerous circles. Her technique was precise, her movements graceful and controlled, and Ginny wondered whether or not that that was a bi-product of the other training that Wanda went through on a day to day basis.

Ginny sat herself down in one of the chairs in front of the display and leaned back cautiously, her attention still focused on the brunette. She hadn't thought that there would be anyone in here at this point in time, seeing as it was so early in the morning, but she appeared to be wrong. In the future, she noted privately, she would have to be careful about that if she were to use the simulation room for her own devices; sensory spells were definitely going to be needed if she wanted to remain discrete.

In front of her, Wanda faltered unexpectedly and Ginny's head snapped up, suddenly very alert and very conscious of the fact that Wanda was all alone, one of the things that Natasha had been extremely vehement about earlier. Her eyes quickly flicked down to the screen and she scanned over the information that it presented her with. Her vitals were all over the place, her pulse sky high and her oxygen saturation low, and the difficulty? Ginny pursed her lips after reading the statistic and looked back up at Wanda, only now seeing the sweat that ran down her skin and the way that her hands, despite their lithe movements, shook under the strain and the exertion of wielding the red power that leapt at her fingertips.

Ginny got to her feet, her eyes now flickering over the entire screen, desperately looking for the button that would shut the simulation down.

"Not that one," she muttered to herself, her hands hovering anxiously over the bright display. "No, not that one either." How did she get herself into situations like these? All she had wanted to do was try and do a simulation, yet here she was, looking frantically for a key or a switch that would shut down a simulation because the person in the actual simulation room had set the difficulty too high.

She looked back up at Wanda again, noticing grimly that she was barely keeping it together; her face tense, her eyes wide and glimmering with a sudden fear. Her legs were now shaking with the effort of holding herself up and her technique was now sloppy and disordered. Hostiles were still pouring out of all of the nooks and crannies that the simulation provided. Ginny looked back down at the screen.

"No, no, no, no," she whispered. "Wait, yes!"

Ginny slammed her hand down on the glass and a second later, raced over to the entry door, wrenching it open as she sprinted into the silver room towards Wanda who was lying in a limp heap on the floor. The sight made a wave of nausea rise within her as Ginny was confronted with an image that she had seen so many times before. Wide eyes, cold skin, motionless body… Rationally, she knew that Wanda wasn't… Well, she just wasn't. But then and again, there was nothing rational about this situation to begin with.

Ginny skidded to her knees in front of her and bent over her. "Wanda. Oi Wanda!" She shook her gently, her fingers going to her wrist. She paused, holding her breath and closing her eyes as her fingers grappled to find a pulse.

"Please, please, please, please…" she breathed, her heart beating frantically in her chest. "Please!" And then she felt it, a small movement underneath her fingertips. It was faint and rapid, but it was there and Ginny breathed out in sudden relief, the adrenaline beginning to fade in her veins. "Wanda? Can you hear me?"

Wanda groaned and shifted faintly. "Ginny?" she slurred, her eyes flickering feebly. "I… What happened?"

"You overworked yourself," Ginny said grimly. "And you were by yourself."

Wanda mumbled something that Ginny didn't quite catch.

"Sorry?"

"I asked," Wanda said breathlessly, her eyes still hazy and distracted, "if you could help me sit up."

Ginny gave her a sceptical look. "You sure?"

Wanda nodded and Ginny sighed, placing a supportive hand on her back as she helped her sit up carefully.

"Why are you here? And Pietro's coming… He must have felt…" Wanda muttered tiredly.

Ginny shrugged, passing a glance over her shoulder. For the first time since she had been here, she hadn't wished for the presence of the silver haired speedster more. "I couldn't sleep and I was curious about this place, so I decided to check it out. It's lucky," she said, "that I didn't need that passcode to turn off the simulation or I don't know what I would have done. Why are you here?"

"Wanda!"

The cry that echoed around the room wasn't wholly unexpected and Ginny barely even felt the rush of wind against her skin as Pietro appeared next to his sister, his eyes wide and afraid.

"What happened?" he asked urgently to Ginny, already crouching next to her and sliding his arms under Wanda's body. "You were here! What happened?" he demanded again.

"Please, Pietro…" Wanda whined quietly. "Don't take me to the hospital. They will only want to know why I-"

"Hush," Pietro told her fiercely and he rose to his feet, Wanda carefully cradled in his arms. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No, please don't. Put me back down. I only need to rest. Please."

Pietro looked torn. "But Wanda," he protested. "You-"

"I was training too hard and I was by myself," Wanda interrupted. "Please don't take me to the hospital. You know how I hate them. And if Steve finds out that I was doing this by myself, then I will be stuck here doing drills."

Pietro seemed to wrestle with himself for a minute before he reluctantly placed Wanda back on the ground. "Fine," he said grudgingly, "but next time, and there won't be a next time, I won't hesitate."

Wanda nodded. "Thank you."

"So what really happened?" Pietro asked, his eyes flicking over to Ginny. "And I want the truth. Why are you really here?"

Ginny looked away. "Couldn't sleep, so I came to the gym to work off some bad energy. I got curious and then decided to walk in here where I saw Wanda."

Pietro gave her an assessing look and Ginny resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. It wasn't exactly a lie that she had told, but, she thought sardonically, it was the safest alternative to simply saying, "I came in here so that I could practice the magic that no one here knows that I have."

"And you?" Pietro asked finally, turning his gaze to Wanda. "Why are you here? You know the rules! I don't want you to get hurt. Yet here you are in the simulation room, which you know you shouldn't be in alone!"

"I couldn't sleep either," Wanda murmured. "Nightmare…" She took a deep breath and stared at the ground. "I've been having the same one for a while now. The one with the boy and the lightning shaped scar and that evil, black shadow. Sometimes it changes. Most of the time, it doesn't. But it's just engrained into my mind that I just can't forget it. It's like it's…" she shuddered, "destroying me, controlling me from the inside out. I can't sleep and when I do, that's all I see."

Ginny was silent as Pietro's expression softened. That was her dream that Wanda was describing. It was _her_ dream and her eyes narrowed unconsciously. Why on earth did someone else have to be burdened with the images that she had seen? Why did someone else, who had nothing to do with the war, with the atrocities of her world, be punished with her grief and her guilt? "I, um, I have some medication that I sometimes take when I can't sleep," Ginny said softly. "I still have some left if you need any. It might help."

But Wanda was already shaking her head loosely. "I don't take medication," she said, her fierce tone belying her glazed stare. "Not when I can help it."

"Well, then," Ginny said, trying another tactic, "tell us about it. That might help."

But Wanda simply scoffed bitterly. "I already have enough people telling to me to talk about things. You wouldn't understand. But then… I don't think that anyone can understand this. And I don't want to talk about it right now."

Ginny exhaled and exchanged a careful look with Pietro. "Well, all right then. What do you want to talk about?"

"I," Wanda said, her voice already stronger, "want to talk about why you're really here."

Ginny gestured to herself. "Me? I already said. I couldn't sleep – nightmare – and I came here to work it off."

"Yes, you said that," Wanda said impatiently. "But why? And I know that you already told us some of this in London, but I want to know why. Your file… well, it says that your life is perfect. According to your file, not even a single person in your family has died, so how can you be having nightmares? And then, the other day you went to a ceremony for a non-existent dead brother, one that isn't listed in your file, and your mother who is apparently still alive. You know," she said slowly, "I looked inside the head of your friend and her thoughts… they were like yours. Like a tangled, indestructible web. What is the chance of that happening? So, either you're lying because you needed to get away or you're hiding something. And not just a little thing, but a big thing. Something important and something dangerous. The other day," she sighed, "and I don't know if I should mention this, but we, the Avengers, all had a talk. About you. People don't trust you because what you say doesn't match your file and I want to know why."

Ginny sighed. "Wanda-"

"You know," Wanda said absently, "Natasha believes that you've seen battle, that you've seen things that rival even what she's seen. I didn't believe her at first. None of us did. But now? I think that I believe her. Even just now, you reacted like someone in the field… You didn't hesitate. Not for a single moment." And Wanda turned her head towards Ginny, her eyes shining with curiosity. "Am I right?"

Ginny sat back on her heels. "Wanda, look-"

"Am. I. Right?" she demanded. "I am, aren't I?"

Ginny ran a hand through her hair and got her feet impatiently, beginning to pace around the large room. She could do so many things… She could tell the truth, a version of the truth, or another lie.

Lies. Her mouth twisted at the thought of telling yet another lie. Merlin, she was sick of lies. For the last three years, all she had been doing was lying, lying, lying. But the worst part was, was that she hadn't just been lying to those around her, but to herself. She had lied to herself about her family, about her magic, about each and every aspect of her entire life. She hadn't been healing, she thought to herself in disgust, she had been _evading_. And now, for the first time in a very long time, she had a chance to come clean. To tell the truth… Ginny carefully examined Wanda, still weakly lying in front of her and then at Pietro, who was looking at her warily yet earnestly and she sighed. Damn him. Damn both of them. Why couldn't they have just stayed silent and ignored her stupid mistakes? And as for Pietro? Well, he hadn't given up on her. Not since the moment that she had met him. He had always been badgering her, asking questions and smirking those awful, annoying smirks whenever he saw her.

"I'm not a spy, if that's what you're asking," she said eventually, her tongue dragging over each syllable. "And I'm not out to get you all. I just… wanted a new start. Somewhere away from England."

Wanda didn't hesitate in her reply. "Why?"

Ginny took her time in formulating an answer. Full truth? Partial truth? Lie? The same words went around her head again and again, before she finally settled on an option and even then, she was uneasy with her choice. Who knew how they would interpret her response, although she did believe that they would take it better than anyone else. They were a part of the Avengers, after all. They dealt with secrets every day.

"Because I was in a war and a lot of people got hurt," Ginny admitted softly. "I won't go into the details, but it lasted years and a lot of people were killed, often murdered brutally. Me?" she scoffed resentfully. "I was one of the lucky ones. I managed to live through it, but its scars still remain, etched into my skin and my head. So, before I left, I got in touch with someone about creating a new life for me and they came through. Don't worry though," she said with a small sour smile, "my name's still Ginny. That's one thing that I couldn't change. So, here I am, working in a job that I never wanted to work in. After the war, I was so bloody determined to just step back from this whole chaotic mess, but then I became a secretary for Pepper Potts. God, I should have known better…" she trailed off.

Wanda was silent for a moment and for a brief second, Ginny was very nervous as to how the brunette would react. She supposed that the part that she was telling – the part that she had just told – was nowhere as unbelievable like many of the other things that she could have added into the storyline, but like she had said to Kingsley, the Avengers weren't yet ready to know about that ugly, messy, magical side of the story, but she would tell them when both she and they were ready. Selfishly, a part of her hoped that this wouldn't change her budding friendship with Wanda – and even with Pietro – because Merlin knew that she needed someone to confide in.

"And how have we not heard about this destructive 'war'?"

"Everyone has secrets," Ginny said bitingly. "And as for governments?" she scowled. "Well, they have so many that they could probably fill an entire ocean with the secrets that they have and the lies that they've told."

"So, you were a part of a secret war?" Pietro asked, curiosity colouring his voice.

Ginny shrugged distantly, not wanting to look at him. "Yep. And it sucked."

Wanda breathed in deeply and Ginny tilted her head at her, analysing the cautious, questioning look in her eyes. "That's still not the entire truth, is it?"

"No," Ginny said dead panned, "but what I just told you is the most that I've told anyone. You can share it with the other members in the group if you want. I won't hold it against you if you do. Besides, I already know, or rather, I've _guessed_ , that Natasha is out to get me for having nothing but lies in my file, so this was going to happen sooner or later anyway." She paused and gave stared meaningfully at the two twins. "Do you have any more questions or do you want to save them for the drilling session that I expect will happen later today?"

Wanda shook her head and Ginny didn't waste another second before she violently left the room.

She hadn't even gotten the passcode.

* * *

Several hours later, Pietro sat in one of the chairs, his hands lying casually on the long table, in the main conference room that they all used to discuss things like training plans and missions. Today though, it was being used not for a meeting, but for an interrogation. Perhaps it wasn't going to be a typical interrogation with nasty questions, possible torture and threats, but it would be one all the same.

Earlier that morning, both Pietro and Wanda had decided to tell the others about Ginny's semi-confession, deciding that they had a right to know seeing as Ginny had said that they could tell whom they pleased. It hadn't been an easy decision and Pietro still didn't feel good about it. He was only just beginning to get to know Ginny and she was just beginning to warm up to him, a fact that made him feel absurdly pleased with himself, but this one act, this one decision, could destroy all of that progress. It was for her own good though, Pietro told himself. After all, they all knew how tense things were becoming surrounding the discrepancies in her file and perhaps even more importantly, they both knew how ruthless Natasha could be in her quest for information. He would rather that Ginny not go through that.

The door clicked quietly open and the attention of each of the people in the room snapped towards it, looking blankly at the redheaded figure that stepped cautiously into the room, a folder held securely in one of her arms. Pietro felt his heart sink ever so slightly. She had that expressionless look on her face again, like she had emotionally detached herself from what was about to happen. He swallowed somewhat guiltily and averted his eyes, not wanting to be like the others who were staring at her with open accusation and wariness.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Ginny said resignedly, closing the door softly behind her. Pietro didn't like the way that she sounded like she had already given up. It wasn't like her.

"Yes, we did," Maria Hill replied in a clipped voice. She gestured to one of the seats. "Sit down. I'm assuming that you already know what this is about?"

Ginny sighed and sat down in one of the seats that Maria pointed to, placing her folder in front of her. "I do and I'll answer any questions that I am able to." She straightened her skirt and the black jacket that she was wearing and stared at them all, an unexpectedly steely light flashing through her eyes. Pietro couldn't help but smirk as he saw it. Maybe she wasn't so resigned as he first thought that she was and he found himself to be relieved at the thought. Ginny wouldn't be Ginny if she didn't put up a fight, one of the things that drew him to her in the first place.

"So, who's first?" she said coolly. "I'm guessing that you want to know how loyal I am, if I'm working for anybody else, what level I am on the danger scale, if I'm capable of killing you, etcetera etcetera?"

"You know," Steve said quietly from across the room, a troubled expression sitting on his face, "you don't have to talk-"

"Yes, I do," Ginny interrupted impatiently. "God knows how long I've kept this in anyway. Besides, I think that you all deserve to know. Or rather, you all deserve to know now." She leaned consciously back in her chair, that blank, careful expression still etched in her features. "As you've probably heard," she started, not a trace of bitterness in her voice, "a couple of years ago, I was in a war. It lasted a long time and many died. After it ended approximately three years ago, I left England, my family, my remaining friends," she said resentfully, brushing a few strands of her hair back behind her ear, "and came here to try and… forget, I suppose you could say. I made a whole life for myself here and to an extent, I moved on.

"I got a job for Stark Industries and worked as a secretary for Pepper and am now working here, which is something that was never a part of my plan, because I never wanted to enter this world again," she said. "Yet here I am, because in the end, I couldn't bring myself to resign," and she smiled a small smile at the confession. "I won't say that I no longer have any affiliation with the people who were in the war or the people that I was – in a roundabout fashion working for – because I do. I just don't work for them any longer. Am I dangerous? Well, I'm about as dangerous as anyone and everyone else, which is to say that I am. Have I killed people? Yes, I have and I see their faces every single damned day," she spat. "Am I loyal? Well, I wouldn't be here today if I wasn't. I don't and have never gone back on the people that I consider myself to be friends with or am employed by. Am I telling you lot the whole truth? No, I'm not. Any other questions?"

Pietro stared at her unwaveringly, wondering why he wasn't all that surprised at her rapid admissions. He supposed that it was maybe because, after all this time, he saw himself in her. The amount of deaths that he and Wanda were responsible for when they were with Ultron was huge. All of the casualties… Pietro swallowed hard as he thought about it. If it hadn't been for his childish desire for revenge, then Ultron never would have happened. All of those people in South Africa, South Korea, Sokovia wouldn't have lost their lives. He was a murderer, as much as everyone else in the room was one. She was among friends here, he realised with a start. The people in this room… They probably understood what she had gone through more than a lot of other people, because for him, there was no questioning of Ginny's story. Ever since Day One, he had known that there was something different about her. From the way that she held herself to the way that she talked, it all reminded him of the steely resolve and the many faces that Natasha seemed to possess. One didn't get those abilities without undergoing something huge. Pietro, of course, hadn't known what it was that had made her like that, but her being in a war wasn't a total surprise either.

"How did we not know about this war?" Maria asked abruptly. "If it went as long as you say it did, then how did we not know about it?"

"Every government has secrets. Secrets that even S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't know about," Ginny replied simply, her words almost exactly the same that Pietro had heard earlier that morning. "I really can't tell you any more than that, because, and I can't believe that I'm about to say this to a room full of secret agents, it is," Ginny held her breath ever so slightly and smirked, "classified. I can't tell you what happened, what I did, nothing. Well," she added thoughtfully, "maybe one day I'll be allowed to tell you all, seeing as my old boss recently discovered that I hadn't been able to completely get away with my new life; he found out that I was working for you lot. Technically, I shouldn't have even told Wanda and Pietro, but a little spider," she said, sending a glare at Natasha who glared unapologetically back, "decided to send me a warning if I didn't get real honest real soon. So, this is me being honest."

"Let me get this straight," Natasha said, breaking into the conversation. "There was a secret war that lasted several years that no one, besides the English government apparently, knew about. There was a high casualty rate, yet no one knows or heard anything about the people that died. You now how that sounds right? How can we trust that what you're saying is the truth? For all we know, you're lying. Again."

"Well, in that case, then it's just like S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA," Ginny said with a shrug, letting the insult roll calmly off her back. "The public have no idea who you really are and they don't have a clue about the war that's between you guys and HYDRA, a war that, dare I say, results in a lot of casualties that no one ever hears about. The general public is in the dark even in their own society, so I don't think that you should be one to judge. But if you want some proof, then…"

Ginny didn't say anything as she opened the folder that was sitting in front of her and got to her feet, passing around the pieces of paper that were inside. Pietro noticed, to his discomfort, that she didn't even look at Wanda or himself as she gave them several sheets each. He almost called out to her, wanting her to face him with eyes that weren't dead, an expression that was alive. Like she had been at the party. Pietro, not for the first, felt inklings of doubt prickle his mind. God, he hoped that he had made the right decision.

Finally, almost apprehensively, he turned the first piece of paper around and was immediately faced with a headline from The Times dating back to 2011. "Massacre in Melrose: What we know about the serial killer who's rampaging the country," it read and Pietro's eyes narrowed as they skimmed over the contents of the article. "Over 25 people were murdered in Melrose the other night... …Neighbours noticed nothing out of the ordinary… …cause of death is not clear… Officials are no longer sure if the suspect is working alone…"

Pietro's grip on the paper hardened unconsciously as he placed the article back onto the large table.

"This is one of the articles that was published as a result of the war," Ginny said quietly, her voice strangely loud in the otherwise silent room. "Many of the people in Melrose, and most of England as a matter of fact, have no idea that it was connected with the war in which I was involved, but it was. The cause of death is usually a major giveaway. All of the other articles that I've given you are also newspaper articles about other casualties that died of either unknown or mysterious causes."

"And did you know any of these people?"

It wasn't only Pietro who glared over at Natasha, her callous question hanging uncomfortably in the air. Ginny, however, to her credit didn't react, her face as expressionless as it had been when she walked into the room. God, Pietro wished that she would show something. Some type of emotion that would reveal how she was really feeling…

"I did," she said stiffly. "I was particularly close with Mrs Abott, who was found murdered in her own home. You can read about it in the second article," she murmured. "And a German family, the Müllers, who lived in Melrose. Do you want any more proof? Because I can show you more," she said grimly.

Once again, it was Natasha who spoke up and Pietro held back an irritated sigh as her voice rang through the room. Could she not see that this was hard enough as it was? "What else do you have?"

"Nothing but my own scars," Ginny shrugged, a warning glint passing through her eyes. "Just a warning though, they're not that pretty. And if you don't want to see those, then Wanda," she said, turning to his sister, "read my mind. I'm telling the truth."

Wanda's eyes were wide as she replied, "But I-"

"I know that you've already said that you can't read it," Ginny said lightly, "but try again. I know that you can do it."

Wanda looked momentarily lost, as though she were fighting an internal battle with herself. For a split second, Pietro wished that Wanda wouldn't and he found himself torn between his sister and the secretary. "I… It might hurt," Wanda replied finally, moving rigidly out of her seat and towards Ginny. Pietro didn't miss the concerned look that he saw Vision give his sister as she anxiously raised her small hands, webs of red already sparking along her fingers.

The android had been around Wanda a lot lately. Especially in London. The pair had been nigh inseparable, always whispering and talking to one another as though they were hiding some great secret and Pietro felt a wave of jealousy and hurt sweep over him. Not long ago, it had been Pietro that Wanda had been giggling to. She had been his world and he had been hers and now? Well, it wasn't like that anymore, a fact that Pietro never failed to resent. He understood that they had to move on with their lives. They had to forgive and forget. But, unfortunately for him, it was easier said than done, especially when the inescapable scars of bullets littered his entire torso.

Pietro blinked the disturbing memories away and watched as Ginny closed her eyes, Wanda hesitantly raising her hands to Ginny's head. He held his breath before a gasp of pain erupted from both Wanda and Ginny, as Wanda surged into her mind. In less than a second, Pietro had bolted out of his seat and was standing next to them, anxiety running through his entire being.

"Wanda," he said urgently, raising a hand to touch Wanda on her shoulder. "Wanda!"

"Don't touch her," Vision said suddenly and Pietro's stare flicked to the red android. "Don't disturb her concentration or it could have negative repercussions for both of them."

Pietro reluctantly placed his hand back to his side, his foot tapping impatiently. Sometimes, he wished that he had been given the burden of Wanda's powers. He knew the effort that it took into controlling them and the pain that she had to fight through in order to wield them and whenever he witnessed her pain because of them, he felt a little part of him break.

"She is telling the truth," Wanda panted unexpectedly, breaking away from Ginny, her hands shaking uncontrollably and her face deathly white as she tore herself away from whatever illusion she had been thrust into. She was looking at Ginny almost fearfully as Pietro helped her back to her seat and Pietro cast a sharp look at the redhead who was looking just as shell-shocked as Wanda. "She is telling the truth."

At this point, though, Pietro didn't care and he hated that Natasha had brought them to this. If it hadn't been for Natasha, then none of this would have happened. If Natasha had left her suspicions unsaid, then they wouldn't be here. Ginny wouldn't be sitting in her seat, a frozen look of wretched grief on her face and his sister wouldn't be on the verge of a mental breakdown. Hell, the last time that he had seen her this distraught had been a long time ago and he had hoped to never witness it again and he wondered what she had seen to make her so distressed. "Are you okay?" he asked sharply. "Wanda?"

"I am okay, Pietro," she muttered, hiding her trembling hands under the table.

"Are you sure?"

"I am fine," she insisted, passing a glance to Ginny who nodded turgidly back, an unspoken promise in her eyes.

"Are you happy now?" Pietro snapped, glaring at Natasha now that he was somewhat satisfied that his sister was okay.

She tilted her head. "No," she admitted finally, "because it's not the whole story. But I understand and I want to thank you for at least telling us this much. Even I can understand the meaning of classified, but one day, I expect an explanation. And for your information, this doesn't mean that I like you, Prewett. It just means that we finally agree on something."

Ginny nodded, a weak smile on her lips. The room fell strangely silent before Tony cleared his throat importantly. "So what exactly did you do in this 'war'?" he asked, getting to his feet slowly. "You see, there are many different parts, many different people that go into making a war a war. And they all have their separate tasks and I'm curious to know what yours was. Were you a hacker? An assassin? One of the ones who ran around with the paperwork?"

Ginny shrugged casually, but her posture was rigid and her hands were twisting under the table where none of the Avengers would see them. Pietro, though, he could see them. In fact, he couldn't stop looking at them. How had she dealt with this? How had she dealt with this, all of this… emotional baggage without cracking under its weight? Pietro didn't know. But he did know, that if emotions festered for too long, they became volatile, unpredictable, dangerous. Like his own had become and his hands clenched into silent fists. He wished that she had come to them at the beginning. He, maybe even all of them, would have been more than willing to help but now that he knew, he wanted to help her even more.

"Espionage wasn't my deal," she said carefully. "I don't even know how to fire a bloody gun and as Clint told me the other day, my fighting technique is sloppy and uncontrolled. And," she cut in as she saw Tony open his mouth, "don't ask me about hacking either, because I never really learnt how to use a computer. I still can't use one very well, either."

"And you swear that you haven't shared any classified information with your former employer?"

"I swear. I'm not an idiot."

"No one ever said you were, kid," Clint said suddenly, his blue eyes serious and grim as he surveyed Ginny. He was giving her the same look that he and Wanda so often received, Pietro recognised and he was comforted to see it. Ever since Sokovia, the archer had become almost family to both him and Wanda, an almost father figure. In all honesty, Pietro didn't know how he would have gotten through the entire mess without him and a part of him hoped that he would do for Ginny, as he had done for them.

"But why were you dragged into it? You were what… 17 at the time?" Clint asked.

Ginny's shoulders tensed at the question. "In their eyes and in my own eyes, I was old enough and at the time, it was either kill or be killed. I wasn't going to sit and watch."

"In the articles," Vision asked, "it said that the cause of death of all of those people was unknown. I assume, however, that you know what that cause of death actually is?"

"And I would tell you, if it wasn't classified information," Ginny said touchily.

"And what if it happens again?" Tony demanded. "Then what?"

"Then the agency that I was working with will intervene again." She glared around the table, this time not bothering to hide her blatant animosity towards each of them. "Does anyone else have any more questions?"

"You said that you made a new life for yourself when you came here," Maria said. "Did you change your name? Your family details? Because if you want to keep working here, then those things have to be at least correct when I re-write your file."

Ginny's face went completely, worryingly blank. "I don't know how much you'll find, seeing as most of it's redacted anyway," she retorted hotly, "but for what it's worth, my real name is Ginny Weasley."

The unfamiliar last name almost sounded wrong, not fitting the woman Pietro saw before him and he promptly decided to just keep calling her 'Ginny Prewett' in his mind. Besides, he thought to himself, the person that she was today was no doubt very different to the person that she had once been.

"Prewett was the maiden name of my mother," she continued emptily, "and when she died protecting me, I decided to take it and I will still keep it that way – I no longer require or am deserving of a name that speaks of someone who disappeared long ago. My birthday is the same and as for my brothers…" Her voice broke just that little bit more. "Originally, I had six older brothers. One of them, however, was also killed in the war," she said with that same despairing emptiness. "Look, I'm really sorry, but have you finished now? Because unlike you lot, I actually have work to do assuming that I still have a job."

Everyone was silent and Ginny offered a final, tense smile as she stood up abruptly, snatching her folder back into her hands. "In that case then," she said, her voice tight, "if you think of anything else that you want to ask me, well, you know where to find me. I'll be happy to answer your questions. And Maria?" she paused, "if you want my resignation, then I understand." And with that, Ginny left the room, her heels clacking on the floor as she strode – probably as fast as possible, Pietro mused – away from them. Wanda, unexpectedly, quickly followed her and Pietro vowed to talk to her later about what she had seen in Ginny's head, noticing the way that his sister had tucked her hands into her sleeves; a sign that she was extremely edgy about something. Pietro was almost tempted to follow them before deciding to simply stay in the room. They needed space, he figured, to discuss whatever it was that Wanda had seen.

"Well," Sam murmured, his voice echoing around the otherwise soundless room, "at least now we know the truth. Or at least some of it. In all honesty, though, I can't say that I'm surprised. In a way, everything pointed to this. What I am surprised with, though, is how she managed not to tell anyone about what happened to her. What she said today…" he shrugged, "that's some serious baggage. I don't know about her, but there is no way that I would have been able to do that without some nasty repercussions."

Steve nodded slowly, his forehead creased. "I agree. Before, she could get away with doing things her own way, but now? We can't simply pretend that it never happened."

"Are you saying that we should train her?" Tony broke in incredulously. "Are you serious? She's already a threat to-"

"I'm saying that we should support her," Steve corrected sharply. "The point is, is that we've all done things that we're not proud of and for some of us, our pasts are pretty dark."

"Except for yours," Tony mumbled hotly, "Mr Star-Spangled-Man-With-A-Plan."

Steve sighed irritably. "This isn't about you, Tony. It's about her and how we're going to support her."

Tony scoffed. "Support her? We should fire her. If she's been in with a secret government agency, then there is absolutely no way in hell that we can trust that what she's saying is the truth. For all we know, she's selling us out, leading us on. I mean, think about it. More information passes through her hands than any single other person on this base and she has access to nearly everything. Maria, please tell me that you're going to fire her."

"Wanda saw inside her head," Clint cut in, his voice hard. "That's enough for me. And it's true what she said about S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA. If we're able to get away with our secret wars, then it can definitely be assumed that other agencies can do the same."

"That goes for me as well," Sam said. "Not to mention…" he fingered one of the pieces of paper that was sitting on the table, "this is pretty good evidence in itself."

"Yeah, except for the fact that she won't tell us the real reason as to why or how they were killed," Tony snorted.

"But did you see the way that she looked when she handed those things out?" Clint scoffed. "Look, Tony, I know when someone's lying and I know when someone's evading the truth. It's what makes me such a damn good agent, husband, and father. She wasn't lying, man."

Tony didn't look convinced.

"But as for your point about training her?" Clint lifted his shoulders. "Well, I don't think that that's such a bad idea. I was doing some work with her yesterday and she's a natural. She has the instinct for it. Plus, over the years, I've found that it's actually good therapy."

"Unhealthy therapy, you mean," Sam interjected. "And if you do that, then you'll probably just be bringing her into something that she no longer wants to be a part of because, if you remember, that's why she came here. To heal. To forget."

"Maria," Natasha said suddenly, "what's your take on all of this?"

Maria shrugged. "Going by what she said… Well, in the bluntest way possible, she's an asset. A dangerous one, to be sure, but an asset all the same. I'll have to tell Fury, obviously, and he'll want to have his own words with her, but I'm not going to fire her. Yet. Watch her, definitely. Fire her, no."

Tony's jaw dropped in protest. "But, Maria. Come on. Think of the consequences-"

"I already have, Stark," she said coolly. "And I've also thought of everything that she's done since she's been here. Ever since she's been at the facility, she's done her damned job. I've never had a problem with her work ethic and she's never caused any problems either. Pepper was nothing but pleased with her, a reason why I took her on. Look, she could have sold you out, she could have sold all of us out months ago, but she hasn't. She's still here and she's still doing her fucking job. And I know that there isn't much evidence, but the evidence that there is, is powerful enough in its own right, because we all, except for you, understand what the meaning of the word 'classified' is," she said cuttingly. "Not to mention, I trust Wanda. And for her comments about S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA? I hate to admit it, but that's also true. Every single damned word."

Maria folded her arms across her chest. "She also said that her boss had realized what she was doing here in America and if her boss is as important as she says he is, then a possible relationship with us and her past agency has to be considered. After all, she obviously still keeps in contact with them."

"And that is exactly my point!" Tony exploded. "She still keeps in contact with them! Who knows what she's telling them!"

Maria stared at him icily. "Well, if she's telling them anything, then she's doing a pretty good job of evading all of our defence systems, systems that are watched 24/7 by some of the best tech analysts in the world, I might add. Trust me, she hasn't sent anything out of here that is not related to her job and she hasn't received anything either. But that's not to say that we won't be watching her after this. There'll be an entire monitor dedicated to just her. Promise."

Tony scowled. "Fine," he said. "Let's just say that we keep her here-"

"Which we will be doing," Steve snapped.

"-and something happens," Tony continued as though Steve hadn't spoken. "I mean, for all we know, maybe it was her that was behind those explosions a few months ago. What are we going to do about it? Because we would have to claim responsibility and how great is that going to sound? 'Oh sorry, Mr President, we were betrayed by someone whom we knew was a traitor all along.'"

Steve sighed. "That's not going to happen Tony."

"Uh huh. And why not?"

"Because she is a good person," Pietro broke in. "I have talked with her perhaps a little bit more than the rest of you have and she is, despite these original lies that were for her own safety and security, trustworthy. She fights for what is right and she's not afraid to do it. Plus," he shrugged, "Wanda likes her and it is not easy to gain Wanda's trust."

Tony threw his hands up in disgust. "Fine. We'll do it your way. For now."

* * *

"You…" Wanda gasped. "You showed me that image. That same one that I dream about. With the boy and the man. How is that possible? How could you have known that that was…" she faded off as realisation dawned in her eyes. "On my God. It's a memory, isn't it? It's your memory. That's why I keep having it. It's because you keep seeing it in your own dreams."

Ginny nodded, her gaze still facing forward.

"But that's impossible," Wanda breathed.

"I can assure that it isn't," Ginny replied, still striding down the hall.

"Then what about everything else that happens in the dream?" Wanda protested. "Those flashing lights? The electricity in the air? And what about the other one? The one with the… torture and those creatures."

"All real."

"But-"

"Wanda." Ginny stopped walking and pulled the brunette over to the side. "Don't you understand?" she whispered furiously. "I just showed you the truth. The whole truth. Look. This is going to take a while to explain, but I wasn't lying when I said that I had to work, because I have a stack of emails that need urgent sending. Come to my room this evening and I'll show you. I'll tell you everything that you want to know. It's just that," she twisted her hands in frustration, "I had to show you those things in order to convince you that I really was telling you the truth and there was no way of doing that without fully revealing everything to you. Without doing it, the others never would have believed me."

Wanda barely hesitated in her response. "But why me?"

"Because Wanda," Ginny smiled wryly, "believe it or not, I trust you."

"But we told the others about the… war."

Ginny smiled the same smile. "And I'm glad that you did that, because it takes the heat off of me. Natasha was getting too suspicious for her own good."

"You're not still working for them, though, whoever they are, are you?" Wanda asked cautiously.

Ginny shook her head firmly. "No. I keep in contact with them, but they don't dictate me or my actions. Anything that I do now is of my own choice."

* * *

 **Hello my lovelies! Here is another ridiculously long (and complicated) chapter! I was really nervous about posting this chapter, because although it's not the 'big reveal', it's still absolutely important to get right, so it would be great to hear what you guys think about this one! That's also the reason why I didn't post this earlier.**

 **Thank you to all of the new follows, favourites, and reviews! You all make my day!  
To guest: Thank you for reviewing and I'm really glad that you're enjoying it so far!  
To Syra62: Thank you very much for your lovely compliment and I hope that you continue to enjoy the story!  
To Katrina: Thank you for your very kind words! I'm really glad that you like this story!  
To Luna Lestrange: Thanks for your review and pointing out that mistake to me! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter :)**

 **I shall probably update this once or twice more this week seeing as it's still Easter break and then after that, we'll be back to regular Sunday updates.**

 **If you see any mistakes, then please let me know and I shall correct them!**

 **I hope that you all have a wonderful week!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	16. Chapter 16

**Language warning.**

* * *

Out of clutter, find simplicity.

From discord, find harmony.

In the middle of difficulty, lies opportunity.

 _Albert Einstein_

* * *

"You have to be fucking kidding me."

"Sir-"

"A goddamned 'retired' spy? In my facility? And you're keeping her there?"

"Sir, I-"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Do you know what a liability she could be? Lock her up right fucking now and wait until I get over there to clean up this whole mess! For fuck's sake, I leave for a couple of months and everything turns to shit. I didn't fucking train you to be the best of the best, Agent Hill, if you're going to let an ex-fucking-spy run around the Avengers fucking Facility!"

"Sir-"

"You know, I had my suspicions about her in the beginning. Everything was too damned perfect and I warned you and then I decided that if you don't want to do anything about it, then that was your choice. But I warned you and now it's biting you in the ass."

"Sir-"

"What?" Fury spat into the camera, too livid to manage anything longer than that.

"Sir," Maria's voice was tight, "do you remember Jakarta?

Fury rubbed his forehead in irritation. "Of course I fucking remember Jakarta, Hill. It was one of the-" realisation dawned in his eyes and he looked at Hill suspiciously.

"Well, sir, that's what I have planned in this case as well, because while I believe her, I don't trust her. She's a liability."

Fury, for the first time during the entire video call, fell silent. Jakarta had been one of those trust missions where several agents had been implanted with airtight covers and where they had lured the leaders of one of the largest mercenary rings in the world into a false sense of security. It had taken months of planning, a whole shit ton of money, and the work of many agents from many different fields, but it had been much more effective than a simple takedown would have been. It had been successful, but it had been time consuming. Almost too time consuming. And in a time sensitive case like this, where every second could mean more information sold, it wouldn't work.

And Fury wasn't one of those people that liked to draw something out. Instead, he was one of those people who liked to deal with a potential threat quickly and efficiently and Ginny Prewett – Weasley or whatever she was called – was a problem. Generally, he trusted Hill to do the right thing when it came down to people like her – a reason why he had deemed it safe enough to leave and tie up his own business – and he had expected her to follow protocol. But this time, she hadn't done that and Fury didn't like it. He didn't like it one fucking bit.

"I think that that's a fucking stupid plan, Agent Hill," he said finally. "We don't have the time to do something as elaborate as Jakarta. Now, who the fuck was the agency again?"

"She said that it was 'classified'," Maria said drily.

Fury snorted. "Classified my ass. Look. Here's how it's gonna go. I'm gonna head over to England, where I'll arrange a meeting with the head of MI6. If I don't get anything from there, then it's the Prime Minister. Meanwhile, over there, seeing as you seem determined not to lock her up for your whole 'trust' ploy, I want an entire fucking monitor dedicated to her. I want agents watching her every fucking move. Every word that comes out of her mouth, every person that she talks to, everything that she fucking does I want to be watched and when I get there, then I want a full fucking report. Understood?"

Maria nodded stiffly. "Understood, sir."

Fury nodded curtly back before shutting off the camera.

"Honestly," he muttered to himself, getting out of his seat, "agents these days." He raised his voice slightly. "And Koenig? Book me a chopper to England and a meeting with the head of MI6."

"Yes, sir!" the chipper voice of the agent echoed back to him in his earpiece and Fury scowled deeply as he walked out of the small office that he had been hiding in. Koenig was too high-spirited for his own good. Always so damned positive…

As a general rule. Fury didn't like positive people. Or rather, he didn't _trust_ positive people. They were always trying to hide something behind their wide fake smiles and their simpering laughs. There was no question about the fact that they were good fucking liars and that they made some of the best agents that were out there, but he still didn't like them. Koenig, he supposed, was the rare exception.

Ginny Prewett, however, he realised now, had never been like that. Probably a reason why he had pushed her off of his list of priorities as soon as he had left the facility. After all, he had warned Hill about the pretty lies that her file was covered with and seeing as Hill had decided to watch and wait, he forgot about it due to the importance of his own upcoming missions. Now, though, now he wished that he hadn't and that he had done some of his own research before he had allowed Hill to take her on. And now there was a fucking ex-spy who had been in a supposed war and who had been working with some kind of dark secret agency running around his facility. And it had been going on for months. God, why had he left again?

Ever since the construction of the Avenger's Facility, he had been laying low, collecting intel on HYDRA and numerous other projects that had headed south since the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D. Thanks to the exposure of their numerous projects, dozens, hundreds even, of projects had been compromised with many contacts, organisations, and agents going into hiding as their covers were released to the general public. Barton and many others, Fury thought to himself, had been lucky to get out alive, but many – too many – hadn't. And that was why he was in the god-forsaken country that was Wakanda, doing his damn best to create reliable contacts and to track down the agents that had once been undercover there. It was safe to say that he hadn't had that much luck despite his own influence.

Wars seemed to be going around, he thought wryly, heading casually out of the building and in the direction of his temporary safe house. And they always caused such a huge fucking mess, which was another reason why he doubted Prewett's story. He supposed that you probably had to have been there, but still. It didn't sit with him. Damn, he had better sort this mess out, because a fucking war didn't happen without him knowing about it.

"Uh, sir? We have a problem." Koenig's chipper voice sounded slightly put off in his ear and Fury sighed irritably.

"What is it now, Koenig?"

"Well," Koenig said slowly. "You're not going like this."

"Spit it out Koenig!"

"I, uh, the safe house is... unavailable, sir."

Fury allowed himself to pause for a moment, take a deep breath, and close his eyes. He should have suspected something like this to happen. After all, if shit went down, then it went down all at once.

Fuck.

He started walked again, this time a little more briskly than before. "Well, what the fuck happened to it?"

"It's surrounded, sir," Koenig informed him bluntly.

"By who?" Fury demanded. "By who, dammit?"

"Sir, I think that you already know." Koenig paused tentatively. "Should I cancel that chopper?"

"Fuck."

* * *

There were times that Maria wished that she hadn't taken this job, taken this life. S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't always been a burden, she reflected. In fact, S.H.I.E.L.D. had saved her sorry life, given her strength and a determination that she had never thought that she would possess in all of her years. But Ginny Prewett… She sighed and leaned back silently in her chair. Ginny Prewett was a problem bigger than she had originally anticipated. From the day that she had met the young redheaded secretary, Maria had known that something was up with her, that something wasn't right. The clues had been in the way that she stood – proud and stoic – in the way that she moved – silent and gracefully – in the way that she hid her emotions behind a mask that was so immovable that even Maria had been impressed. Dangerous by-products of being in a war, she realised now. But at the time, it had been what she had been looking for and so, after chatting lightly with Pepper, Maria had taken her on. And up until now, she had done a good job.

But her being in a war, being a former employee to some agency that S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't even know about, was the end of the line. Before, Maria had been able to deal with the uneasy facts in her file and her mysterious attitudes, but now that she knew, there was no going back.

"Maria!"

Tony Stark's voice echoed around her office as the billionaire in question burst announced into her office, effectively distracting her.

"What the hell are you thinking? What, so you're just gonna let an ex-spy run around one of the top secret bases in all of America? Are you joking? I hope that you're joking. Please be joking."

Maria pushed herself out of her chair and glared at her former boss. "Would you close the door before your go around yelling shit like that, Mr Stark?" she hissed. "We don't want this getting around or give the wrong idea to anyone in this whole fucking facility."

Tony slammed the door behind him in exaggerated irritation. "The wrong idea?" he scoffed. "I think that it's you who has the wrong idea! You know, out of all of them, I at least thought that you were the smart one," he continued. "So, are you even doing anything about this? Does Fury even know?"

"Fury knows," Maria said coldly, "and for your information, no. I'm not going to let an ex-spy run around my base. That's why there's a monitor dedicated to her in the tech room. That's why, whenever she leaves her apartment in the morning, she is going to be tailed until she returns. That's why I've already bugged her apartment."

Tony was silent for a moment, digesting what Maria had told him. "So, you are doing something?"

Maria fought the urge to roll her eyes. "What do you think?" she snapped. "You know, for a smart man, you really can be obtuse."

"I'm hurt," Tony said dead panned. "But why not tell the others?"

"Because they don't need to know. If they ask, then I'll tell them. But other than that… There's no reason. They'll all deduce it sooner enough anyway."

"Well, good," Tony said finally, some of the anger fading from his face. "You know, for a moment there, I thought that you had-"

Maria directed another heated glare at him. "Get out, Tony," she said icily. "Just… get out."

Normally, he would have stayed, irritating her to no end and enquiring about missions, safety systems, and agents and how he could improve this program and that program, but today he didn't. And it was something that Maria was eternally grateful for. Maybe, after all of this time, he had finally gotten the message as to when he wasn't wanted.

Once she was sure that he was gone, Maria slumped back in her chair once again, wondering how Fury had done this. God, there was so much for her to do. She was still cleaning up after Sokovia, having video conferences with some of the world's most influential people, having interviews with regular news channels, having civilians glare at her when they realized who she really was, having to worry about Coulson, who the Avengers didn't yet know about, having to worry about the whole Inhuman problem… And then there was Banner. Nothing had been found on him yet despite their extensive searching and it was beginning to become difficult. Maria hated to admit it, but it wasn't exactly a good thing, having lost the trail for one of the only people on the planet who could turn into a giant monster that could level cities. Normally, when he was actually normal, Banner was a rational, good, down to earth person. He was level headed and extremely smart and an asset to the entire team. But, at the same time, and this was where Hill felt slightly guilty, he was a danger to himself and to others and the fact that they had lost someone like that was problematic.

And now, on top of all of that, there was Ginny Prewett, a supposed ex-spy who had served in a long-standing, secretive war in England that no one knew about and who happened to be the secretary to one of the most powerful and influential groups on planet earth.

Why had she taken on this job again?

Her mailbox dinged and Maria glanced upwards at it, only raising an eyebrow once she recognised that it had come from an encrypted server. The message itself was written in code, one that Maria had learned to decrypt ages ago, and she clicked on it with a weary sigh, already knowing who it was from. Something must have gone down right after their video conference.

WON'T MAKE IT TO ENGLAND, she decoded quickly, her eyes scanning across the mass array of numbers. WILL RETURN WHEN ABLE. KEEP EYES ON RED. Maria snorted to herself in derision. Just because she hadn't heeded Fury's words of wisdom once, did not at all mean that she was an incapable agent and she was rankled that Fury had had to put something so uselessly obvious in an otherwise encrypted message. She quickly deleted it before sifting through the stack of other emails that she had received in her inbox. Mission reports, complaints, interview requests… A never-ending list, she thought grimly, as she clicked on the first email.

It was, strangely enough, an alert telling her that a simulation had been abruptly and without reason, shut down early this morning and Maria found herself clicking on it curiously, wondering if this was what Ginny Prewett did when she was alone.

 _ALERT: 02:13am S-ROOM_

 _Wanda Maximoff did not authorise the end of her session._

Maria read the notification once again, reading over the statistics that it had also helpfully supplied her with at the time that it had been shut down, and pursed her lips together tightly. Great. Now she had Wanda to deal with and whoever it was that had shut it down without authorisation. It wasn't the first time that this had happened, that she had discovered that Wanda had been training alone in the middle of the night, but the first time, Steve had been willing to let it go. But now that it had happened again, something needed to be done about it. They all knew the dangers of being in the room and what's more, they all knew the rules, and if they couldn't play them, then it was game over. Maria made a mental note to bring it up again with Steve at the next available point in time.

A knock on the door made her sigh with displeasure at being distracted once again, and she called, "Come in," to whoever it was who was game enough to piss her off further.

She supposed that she shouldn't have been surprised when she saw Ginny Prewett standing in the doorway, because after all of this, there really was no one who could piss her off better.

Well, Maria supposed, eyeing the redhead stiffly. At least she had balls.

Ginny handed her a stack full of folders. "I tracked these down for you, as you asked," she said blandly, holding them out and then slapping them firmly on her desk when Maria made no move to take them. Maria had to hand it to her, this girl was damned good and she found herself thinking back to the moment where Tony had inadvertently suggested that they train her. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea, she reflected, when she was sure of the fact that she was no longer working for some agency.

"Look," Ginny said finally, "I know that you don't trust me and I don't blame you, but you can't exactly blame me either. Just because I didn't have all of my secrets fill the endless pages of the Internet, doesn't mean that you get to know everything about everyone else. So, if you want to lock me up. Fine. If you want to bug my room. That's cool. Of you want to place a tail on my ass," she said, glaring pointedly over her shoulder at one of the agents sitting discretely outside of her office, "then I can deal with that. You won't find anything anyway, because I haven't and I never will be a traitor. But you can't say that you didn't see this coming, because I know that you did." Ginny gaze was somewhat accusing now and Maria was actually impressed with the girl for it. You know, thinking about it, she really would make a very good agent… And that's when she knew exactly what she would do with the redheaded secretary. She felt a smirk blossoming on her lips.

This would be perfect.

She would be able to give her information – false information – and see what she would do with it. She would be able to see how far Ginny Prewett really would go in order to prove that she really hadn't done anything wrong, prove that she was truly loyal to the Avengers. Maria smirked to herself and wondered how she didn't see it before.

"Well, if you're so sure that you're not a traitor then," Maria found herself saying, her voice sickly sweet before becoming as severe as a knife, "then prove it. Become an agent for us. If you pass the tests, if you prove your loyalty to us, then we'll be able to see where you stand."

That had not been the reply that Ginny had been expecting and Maria felt vaguely triumphant about the fact that she had caught her off guard.

"Unfortunately," Maria continued deliberately, her eyes now firmly trained on every inch of the redhead's face, "this deal expires as soon as you leave the office. If you take it, then you go into training as of tomorrow morning. If you don't," she trailed off, deciding to leave the next part unsaid.

Ginny wasn't stupid, Maria realised, recognising the calculating stare that was being directed her way at the deliberate end to the sentence. She knew what that deal really meant. She knew, that if she stepped out that door without having accepted Maria's offer, that it would essentially be a confession on the spot. Maria had boxed her into a corner and she wasn't the least bit regretful about it.

"Fine," Ginny ground out over a minute later, her face still carefully, annoyingly blank. "Fine."

Maria nodded, not even bothering to hide her triumph at the fact. "I'll send you the details immediately. You'll be assigned to a different area of the facility where you'll be sleeping as well."

Ginny nodded. "Fine," was all she said again.

"Then," Maria said, "you're dismissed."

And she watched in blatant satisfaction as she left, only later realising with annoyance that she would now have to get someone to go and debug her former secretary's freshly bugged apartment.

* * *

The hilt of the knife was familiar in her hand and she smirked to herself as she ran a finger up the blade. Knives. They had always been one of her favourite things to work with. Lethal. Beautiful. Unforgiving. Even in that Red Room, they had been her preferred weapon of choice, preferring them over any type of gun, and her teachers had encouraged it. It was just such a shame that she couldn't use them as much as she used to.

"I was thinking of bringing the twins and our favourite redheaded secretary to the farm," Clint commented casually, breaking Natasha out of her thoughts, an arrow thunking into the centre of one of the many hidden targets in the gym.

Natasha was silent, her eyes narrowing in concentration as the hilt of her knife finally left her hand and slammed into the middle of another target. She smirked as she saw another agent scurry out of the way. Scaring the new recruits had always been one of her favourite things to do. "I don't think that that's such a bad idea," she said eventually and reached for another, more heavily weighted knife, the sharpened steel glinting under the harsh gym lighting. "They'd probably all benefit from going there. After all," she grinned, "we all know how the Barton farm is essentially a balm for a weary soul."

Clint scowled at her, another arrow hitting the centre of another mark. "Whatever."

God, for her, it had been a place that had saved, had _changed_ her life. The smell of the wood, the home made cooking, Laura's smiling, open face, the sound of the kids laughter echoing happily throughout the house… Even now, she could picture the exact moment that she had entered that house. It had been early in her 'employment' with S.H.I.E.L.D. and it had been one of her bad days, one of those days where everything effected her, when every step alerted her, when every noise made her jump and turn to the suspect, knife in one hand and gun in the other. She had arrived, wary and distrustful, at the farm, not sure what she was about to get herself into. But Clint had simply smiled reassuringly to her before knocking on the door. And then Laura had surged through it with a beaming smile, not a trace of hate or judgement on her face. "Natasha," she had smiled. "I've been expecting you. Come in." And then she had opened the door and said that dinner would be ready soon and that she would be welcome to join them and Cooper if she wanted. At first, Natasha had been horrified that her partner would bring her to such a sacred place, because who the hell would want an assassin around their wife and kid? She had shaken her head at Clint and had intended to leave the farm, but Clint had pushed her through the doorway and then she had seen the Lego bricks covering the floor, pictures framed on the walls and then the scent of the roast chicken had hit her nose. From that point, Natasha hadn't been able to leave and for the first time in a long time, Natasha had seen the valuable parts of life again, the innocence and the beauty within it.

She found herself smiling slightly before she blinked and shook the memories off with a shrug. Now wasn't the time to get sentimental.

Clint paused in his movements, distracting Natasha, and shot her a calculating look out of the corner of his eyes. "So, I gather, seeing that you look far too satisfied with yourself, that you're not too fazed about Prewett being in a 'secret war'?"

Natasha snorted. "Oh, I am fazed," she muttered, another knife sinking into the board of another cut out figure. "But as far as I'm concerned, I don't think that any of us should be overly surprised. There was something off about her from the beginning. We all knew it."

"Well, you do have a point there," Clint said, bringing his bow back up once again and pulling the drawstring back to his cheek. "Tony was getting pretty worked up about it. I suppose that I shouldn't be that surprised about that either."

"Yeah," she acquiesced, "but Tony hates being in the dark. About anything. He probably saw her admission as more of a threat than anything else, simply because he couldn't see it coming." She lingered, fingering the hilt of yet another knife. "You believe her then?"

"Prewett? Surprisingly, yes. Whether or not I trust her though," he tilted his head, "that's another matter entirely. I wonder what Maria's going to do about it."

Natasha shrugged simply, taking aim a second before it thudded into the target. "Well, we all know what she does when she's faced with a potential threat."

Clint snorted in amusement. "And I guess that you would know all about that now then, wouldn't you?"

Natasha glared at him.

Clint simply smirked back. "Laura's good by the way. She was asking about you and," he twisted his face slightly into an unrecognisable expression, "Bruce as well. She wanted to know what was going on with that."

"Well, you can tell her that nothing's going on," Natasha said sharply. "We're still looking for him. That's the end of it. And as far as you're concerned, it's really none of your business."

"Come on, Nat. I'm your best friend," Clint pouted. "Your business is my business."

Natasha sighed and uncharacteristically wiped a few strands of her out of her face. She was too tired to be playing these childish games. "I don't want to talk about it," she grumbled. "And," she jumped in as she saw Clint open his mouth, "that's the end of it unless you want me to punch you where it hurts. If, however, you do want me to punch you, then go ahead and say what you were gonna say."

Clint closed his mouth and Natasha grinned, letting the knife loose one final time. "Good choice," she said, as the knife sunk into the target, "I'm sure that Laura will appreciate your good judgement."

* * *

"Ginny? Where are you going?"

Ginny stopped at the sound of Wanda's voice and Wanda jogged lightly up to her, warily noticing the large empty box that was sitting loosely in her arms. She had been pacing outside of Ginny's apartment nearly for half an hour now, wondering where the redhead had gone. She had begun to think that Maria had fired her and had felt a wave of relief when she had finally seen her coming down the hall. She had so many questions and they were just going round and round inside her head.

"I'm moving," Ginny pointed out mildly, an oddly pleasant expression on her face, placing the box outside of her doorway.

Wanda breathed in sharply. "You have been fired?"

She tilted her head. "In a way, I guess you could say that – I've been moved to another area. I'm becoming a recruit," she explained, seeing Wanda's confused expression. "Maria offered me a deal. Either prove my loyalty and commit to S.H.I.E.L.D. or walk out and never see the light of day again. It wasn't that hard of a choice to make." She shrugged lightly and stared into Wanda's eyes, her gaze wary and abruptly serious. It was an expression that Wanda was familiar with, but there was something more dark in Ginny's stare that she didn't like the look of. "I promised to tell you, didn't I?"

Wanda nodded firmly in response to Ginny's tired tone. "You did. And I want the truth. All of it."

"And I'll give it to you. Just not here. They bugged my apartment." She hesitated and gave Wanda an assessing look. "Do you want to go up to the roof?"

"Sure."

It was safe to say that the Avengers Facility didn't have much of a roof – Wanda had been on it enough to know – but in this case, it didn't matter all that much. It was out in the fresh air, away from prying eyes and spying ears, and it was freeing. Back when she had been new to this whole thing, she had spent quite a lot of time on the roof, relishing the way that she would be able to stay up there for hours without anyone immediately knowing where the was. It had driven her brother absolutely crazy at first and she found herself smiling lightly at her brother's antics. Despite the tenseness that had been between them as of late, he was still the most trusted person in the world to her.

The two young women sat carefully on the edge, Ginny taking off her heels and tossing them carelessly beside her and for a moment, Wanda was tempted to do the same before deciding against it.

"I won't be missing these," Ginny said cheerfully, but her worried gaze belied her and Wanda saw her uncertainty as she looked out at the training field.

"You are really becoming an agent?"

"It would appear so." She hesitated and smiled nervously at Wanda. "So," Ginny mused, "where to start… And if you don't understand, then but in and ask me stuff or feel free to check inside my head anytime."

Wanda nodded silently, a slight smirk on her lips. They both knew that that wasn't going to be happening again. That one experience from earlier that day had already been one too many.

"Right, so," Ginny took a deep breath and stared at Wanda in slight apprehension, "In the bluntest way possible, I am a witch."

Wanda raised an eyebrow. That hadn't been the answer that she had been expecting. "A witch?" she said doubtfully. "As in a magic witch with a wand like in all of the stories?"

Ginny smiled feebly and turned her gaze back out to the field. "Kind of. It essentially means, in the loosest way possible, that I can do things that a lot of other people can't. Being a witch… It's something that you're born with. No one knows why or what causes it, so as far as I know, it just happens, but it tends to stay in families."

"So, your entire family are… witches." The word sounded foreign on Wanda's tongue.

"And wizards. And yes, they are."

Wanda shot Ginny a perplexed look. "And no one else knows?"

"No."

"How?"

"Well, we're very good at hiding our tracks. Like I said, we have laws and there are spells that can make you forget. Otherwise," she shrugged, "it would impossible to hide all of us. In general, there are quite a lot of us, an entirely different society, you could even say, living in synch with everyone else. We have our own laws, wars, creatures, illnesses, societies, schools, languages, governments…" Ginny paused awkwardly. "Questions?"

Oh Wanda had questions. She had too many questions. But all she could get out was, "Schools? Witch schools?" How did that even work? What did they even learn? What was that even like?

"Magic schools," Ginny corrected quietly. "When you're a witch or a wizard, then you get offered a place at a magical school. It's a place where they teach you how to control and evolve your own magical skills and learn spells and potions and all of this other stuff that, to be honest, isn't actually that relevant in regular, non-magical society. I don't know how it is at other schools, but I started my magical education when I was eleven and because there was a war, I was never able to fully complete my education there."

"And this is the war that you were involved in?" Wanda asked in a strangled voice, reminding herself that stranger things that happened to her. Deep breath, she told herself. She had seen and heard much weirder things. For instance, aliens had come screaming through a hole in the sky. She and her brother had gotten her powers through a sceptre that was literally from another planet. They had fought a crazy, evil robot and watched a city explode into piles of rock and steel. Her brother had almost died. She could handle this. She could definitely handle this.

"Yes."

"And that is what I dream about, yes? This courtyard with this evil man and death in every corner…"

Ginny sighed. "Yes."

Wanda was almost relieved to hear that. At least she wasn't going crazy, because for a time there, she thought that she had been. After all, she reflected grimly, one didn't have repeating dreams for no reason, especially a dream that she had never seen before and she was comforted to know that it did have a source. She just hadn't expected it to be Ginny. Suddenly, Wanda felt a wave of guilt build up inside her in the face of her own relief. Is that what Ginny had had to go through? Is that what she had seen? She swallowed hard and turned her head away, the flashes of stone, blood, and screams filling her senses once again. This evening, Wanda hadn't known what to expect, what Ginny would tell her. In a way, Wanda supposed that she had been ready for anything, which was probably one of the only reasons why she wasn't freaking out right now and thus, she was hesitant in her next words. "Can you… show me some? Magic, I mean."

Ginny bit her lip. "Okay," she said carefully, "I, uh, don't have my wand with me, but I'll see if I can give it a go."

Wanda was too distracted by the mention of a wand. "A wand?" She had seen pictures of wands in picture books when she was younger. They had always been long, elegant and beautiful, a bright shining light on the top of them. Wanda wondered if Ginny had a wand like that and she felt a small smile tough her lips. When she had been younger, she wished that she had had a wand like that. When she had been younger, though, she had wished for a great deal of things.

"Um, it's what we channel our magic through. I'll show you later. Promise. Uh," Ginny wrung her hands, "have you got a piece of paper?"

Wanda dug her hands into her pockets, beginning to feel just the slightest bit nervous of what Ginny was going to do. She had said earlier that she was dangerous. What if she did something and she had no control over it? Wanda cursed the thought a second later, her fingers curling around a note that was still in her pocket. Ginny wouldn't do anything dangerous. She was too in control. Anyone could see that. Her fingers closed around the paper and she dug it out, handing it to Ginny.

"This was always one of the coolest tricks at school," she grinned suddenly, her fingers creating folds in the tiny scrap of paper. "It doesn't help that I'm rather out of practice, seeing as I gave it up after the war."

"You gave… magic up after the war?" Wanda asked, her gaze transfixed on the paper that was being folded into some unknown thing in Ginny's fingers. "Why?"

"Because I thought that it would help me forget. Because, at the time, it was a burden. It's only recently – just over a week ago, that I actually performed magic for the first time in three years. It's actually the reason why I got so sick; my body didn't know how to handle it."

"What made you use it again?" Wanda asked, beginning to feel slightly more anxious. If magic was real…

"I couldn't control it anymore; it ended up controlling me. I also," Ginny grimaced, "had a reality check. I was gifted with magic and I sacrificed a lot to learn it and keep it, so why keep it hidden away?

Wanda didn't move as Ginny finished folding the paper and peered over at it cautiously. "It is a butterfly," she said in surprise. "Why did you make a butterfly?"

Ginny simply smiled. "For this."

And in her cupped hands, the butterfly leapt to life, its paper wings flapping gently as it soared into the air. It hovered for a moment before doing a lazy loop around Wanda's head, the sound of it's wings beating filling the otherwise quiet air. Wanda could barely take her eyes off of it and she reached out, wanting to touch it, wanting to see how an object that had never been intended to fly had received its power. With a start, she realized that it really was real. That magic was something that was real and for the first time in a long time, she felt afraid. She had heard the stories, she read the books. She knew that magic was all but limitless and she cast a careful glance towards Ginny.

"How did you do that?" she breathed, her fingers reaching past their temptation and brushing its paper wings. She felt a shiver go down her spine at the spine at the feeling.

"A spell, a charm, actually."

The butterfly suddenly burst into flames, and Wanda jumped as bright oranges leapt up at her, the paper dissolving into a small pile of ashes in her lap. For a moment, she stared at it in horrified awe, as the ashes began to blow away in the gentle breeze. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, her hands clenching into fists by her sides. Magic was real. Magic was real. She tried to convince herself that she had seen, heard stranger things.

"Magic," Ginny said finally, her voice cutting through the heavy silence that had fallen between them, "has its good sides and its bad sides. You can use it for good, you can use it for evil, or you can use it for both. In the war, there were two sides. The light side and the dark side. On the light side," she smiled in memory, "there was a hero, Harry Potter he was called," she said softly, "and on the dark side, there was Voldemort, a twisted evil wizard. I believe, that you've already met both of them in your – my – dreams. I'm really sorry for that, by the way," she said, sounding regretful, "you shouldn't have to suffer for what I lived through."

Wanda was silent.

"Well, Voldemort had been terrorising the Wizarding world for years and it had been foretold that Harry would stop him. On both sides, groups rallied around them and… it got ugly. For all of us."

"And you were on the light side?"

Ginny looked slightly insulted. "Just because I've killed people doesn't mean that I'm a dark witch," she frowned. "Besides," she shuddered, "if you had seen them, if you had been there, then trust me. You would have wanted them gone too. But yes, I was on the light side. We won in the end, but it was a hard won battle. We lost a lot of people."

"It… it must have been hard for you. For all of you."

Ginny looked grim. "It was. That's why I left. After the war, things with my family became tense to say the least and I very selfishly decided that I couldn't handle it anymore. That's why I came over here. And while I've questioned my sanity many times because of it and although I've destroyed a couple of relationships over it, I have yet to actually regret it. Being over here, it's allowed me to rethink everything. Who I am, my morals…"

Wanda was quiet for a moment, trying to take everything that Ginny had just told her, because honestly, it had been a lot. A lot more than Wanda had expected it would be and had it not been for the butterfly and the horrifying visions, she never would have believed it, because a secret society, an entire world living within another, was just too ludicrous to comprehend. Magic, she knew, was power. It was the gateway into a world where nearly everything was possible and so it was with caution that she asked her next question. "So, what can you do with magic?" she asked slowly. "Anything?"

Ginny grimaced and Wanda wondered why, suddenly fearing the answer. "Almost anything," she corrected and Wanda swallowed at the confession. She had been right. "We can't bring back the dead and we aren't immortal."

"But everything else is fair game?"

Ginny looked vaguely uncomfortable as she answered, "To an extent."

"Is it very dangerous then?"

Ginny sighed and got to her feet, looking out at the evening sky wistfully. "Like I said, it can be. But magic is only as dangerous as its wielder."

"Is it hard to control?" Wanda wanted to know, an idea suddenly occurring to her.

Ginny shrugged again. "It can be."

"So," Wanda said deliberately, "you are like me." Wanda had never thought that she would say those words, quite sure that there was no one on the planet who could understand her powers. In a way, she supposed, wondering why she hadn't seen it sooner, her powers were a type of magic and Wanda felt a huge wave of relief. She wasn't alone. She was no longer alone.

Ginny, however, spun around to face Wanda quizzically. "I suppose that you could say that," she conceded. "Yeah, I guess that you could say that."

Wanda smiled a tiny smile in response and didn't miss the liberation that spread over Ginny's face.

"Thank you," Wanda said finally, her mind whirling with so many thoughts, questions, images, "for sharing this with me. Truly. It is a… lot to take in, though. I will definitely have to, as you say," she winced, "sleep on it. I am still coming to terms with it and I think it will take me a long time to accept it, but I do not think that there is any way that it could be a lie. Not after what I saw in your head and what you… showed me. You and I… I think that we are a lot more similar than we know."

* * *

Pietro didn't like being in the dark, especially when Wanda knew something the he didn't. He remembered, that when he had been younger, he would always tickle the information out of her so that he could know too, but in this case… He smiled grimly. He didn't think that that would work anymore. They had simply experienced too much pain. Seen too much destruction. So it was with great annoyance that Pietro surveyed his sister who sitting by herself in the common room, that odd, stunned and frustrating look on her face.

"What are you thinking about?" Clint asked, stepping lightly into the room, arms folded across his chest. "Seems to be something serious."

Pietro shrugged and shot the archer a devilish grin. "Wanda knows something that I don't and I'm trying to come up with a way that will make her talk."

"So," Clint said with a smirk, glancing over at Wanda with slight concern, "not that serious then."

"Not really."

Pietro went back to staring at Wanda thoughtfully. Ever since their falling out, they hadn't really spoken and even after Pietro had somewhat apologised, they were still distant, a fact that Pietro had never failed to despise. And then there had been that incident last night. God, he had been so worried for her and then when Ginny had been there as well… Not for the first time, he wondered what had possessed Wanda to go into that room alone, besides the nightmares that he hadn't even known about. They all knew that it was forbidden and that there were consequences should they disobey those rules, but that wasn't what surprised him. It was more the fact that he was pulling Wanda into line rather than she that surprised him and it wasn't a welcome change. Something was going on in Wanda's head and it was making her unpredictable.

"And how are you doing?"

Pietro shrugged again, his attention still focused on Wanda. "Fine."

"And Prewett?"

Pietro brought his head up sharply. "What about her?" he asked to Clint's gleeful face.

"Nothing except for the fact that you like her and the fact that she released a bomb on us today."

Pietro's face morphed into one of confusion. "A bomb?"

Clint waved a hand in dismissal. "Just an expression."

"And who says that I like her?" Pietro defended, already beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable at the direction that the conversation was taking. This wasn't how he had planned his evening.

"Come on, kid, it's obvious. You care about her. It's cute. Now talk."

Pietro scowled, unable to fight the warmth that crept up his neck. He hated being described as cute. "It's fine," he mumbled.

Clint passed him a fond, teasing look and much to Pietro's relief, changed the subject. He hadn't heard the last of this, though.

"You know, I was thinking of taking you, Wanda and Prewett on a field trip. Just for a couple of nights. It would be good for you. That is, if you and Wanda can get away from training."

"And Ginny," Wand piped up unexpectedly from her spot on the couch, that glazed, incredulous look still clouding her eyes as she stood up. "Ginny may not get time away from training either. And where would we go?"

Pietro snorted, still too pre occupied that Wanda had said that Ginny was training, something that he knew to be wrong. "Ginny doesn't train," he blurted.

Wanda raised an eyebrow as she stretched lightly. "Doesn't she?" she said knowingly. "Because that's not what she told me earlier. She's now a recruit here," she explained further as Pietro and Clint exchanged questioning looks. "She begins tomorrow."

* * *

 **Hey guys! Here is the extra chapter that I promised you all and don't worry, because I shall be posting again within the next 24 hours to keep in line with my usual Sunday routine.  
Thank you to all of the new reviews, follows, and favourites. You all make my day!  
To Guest: Thanks for your lovely review and I hope that you also had a lovely Easter break!  
To Luna LeStrange: Thank you for your supportive words and I'm really glad that you like how the story is progressing!**

 **If any of you find any mistakes or have any further ideas, then don't hesitate to let me know and I shall fix them!**

 **Who here is excited for Captain America: Civil War? I am so excited that it's unbelievable. I literally cannot wait. Is there anything that you're particularly excited for? I'm anxious to see what happens with Bucky and for how Wanda has developed. It's gonna be so awesome. I can just feel it.**

 **Anyway, until tomorrow!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	17. Chapter 17

**To my lovely guests who only check on Sunday's, there is an update just before this one which you may want to check out before reading this one!**

* * *

There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind.

 _C.S. Lewis_

* * *

 _Approximately 4 Weeks Later_

Pietro was irritated. He was irritated with the new secretary, who was happy, bubbly, chatty and worst of all, flirtatious. He was irritated with Steve for making him write extra reports, when they both new that he hadn't broken the rules deliberately. He was irritated with Natasha, who was pushing him further every day. And most of all, he was irritated with Ginny.

Ginny Prewett, the ex-secretary, the ex-spy, the one person whom he found to be intriguing on the entire base, and the recruit that he had barely seen in the past four weeks. Every now and again, he would catch a glimpse of her in the hallways or out on the field or in one of the many labs, but that was it. He had thought that he would see her more, but Clint had all but told him to his disappointment that that would be nigh impossible. The recruits, he had said, were essentially entirely separate from the facility. They had their own plans, missions, timetables, protocols as well as living and training areas amongst a whole host of other things that Pietro couldn't even remember. The last he had seen of her had been several days ago in the cafeteria, a small smile on her lips, her auburn hair tightly braided around her head, as she read through a massive stack of books that had surrounded her tray. She had looked good. Happy even, as other agents – other recruits, Pietro assumed savagely – laughed and joked with one another and not for the first time, Pietro wondered how Ginny was going. He hoped that she wasn't working herself too hard, but he was sure that she was. When she had been their secretary, that's all she had ever done. Work, work, work. He supposed, though, that she would need to in order to catch up on everything that she had missed.

He shook his head slightly and took a sip of his drink, annoyed that he was thinking about her yet again. He had promised himself that he wouldn't do it anymore, that he would simply forget about her the way that she had seemingly forgotten about all of them except for Wanda, and to an extent, it had worked. After all, there was the training that seemed to become more brutal with every passing day every other weekend, and then there were a host of parties and dinners that he was expected to attend. All of the girls there had been all too delighted to accept him.

Besides, he told himself forcefully, feeling the alcohol burn his mouth, it wasn't like he had ever truly known Ginny, even though he was quite sure that she knew all about him thanks to the information that she had access to. It was pathetic, the way he was acting. After all, she had just been a passing infatuation, a challenge that had come and ended, a simple fancy and the sooner that he convinced himself of that, the better it would be for him in the long run.

But even those thoughts hadn't stopped him from looking up in the corridors when he saw a flash of red or a pair of brown eyes and he hated himself for it. It was quite clear that she no longer wanted anything to do with them, hence his decision to stop thinking about her all together in order to desperately try and get over this girl who barely wanted a thing to do with him or any of the others. He just wished that it were easier to do than to say. Hell, he was pitiable.

"Pietro," Clint's voice floated over to him and with a scowl, he turned to face the archer. Clint, for the last week and a half hadn't been at the facility and Pietro, oddly enough, had found himself missing him. The facility was nowhere near as confining when he was chucking his arrows around the place or teasing Wanda and him in their training sessions.

"Clint," Pietro greeted. "Long time no see."

"I thought that I'd find you down here," was all the archer said, taking a seat at the bar next to him. It was a meeting point for all of the agents on the base, a place for them to wind down, relax, and get over whatever shit had happened to them on that particular day. Today, though? Today, it was extra busy in the homey pub and Pietro found himself wondering what had happened to make everyone show up. Perhaps a mission had gone south. "Rough day?"

Pietro snorted. "You could say that. Natasha was especially…" his face twisted, "fierce in her training today. It was all very encouraging."

Clint chuckled lightly. "Nat does have a way with words, doesn't she? But she's good. When she wants to be. And it'll all pay off in the end anyway."

Pietro turned to Clint curiously, lowering his voice. "Are you saying that we have a mission?"

Clint kept his face straight, but Pietro didn't miss the slight tightening around his eyes. For the first time in several weeks, Pietro felt a thrill run through his veins. Finally. They had been training for months now and Pietro had been beginning to get antsy at the lack of missions that had come their way. Granted, there had been the odd thing every now and again, but it had never required the entire team. Wanda, in that regard, had been very popular with her powers coming in very handy with dangerous criminals that weren't willing to talk and Pietro felt an inkling of anger run through his veins. Even though his sister had consented to each interrogation, he knew how his sister felt about her using her powers for things like that. It was all well and good for S.H.I.E.L.D., but they weren't the ones to see the aftermath of those missions. No, instead that was for Pietro and Vision alone.

"A mission for all of us?" Pietro enquired carefully, raising his glass to his lips again.

Clint gave the barest hint of a nod. "The details are still being confirmed and finalised, but yes."

"Our old enemy again, then?"

Clint nodded his head once again. Pietro supposed that he wasn't that surprised. "The very same."

"How long until the details are definite?"

"About another week. So don't worry kid," Clint said, clapping him on the back cheerfully and ignoring the glare that Pietro was sending his way, "Natasha's torture will only last another seven days before she eases off again."

Pietro scowled, swallowing the last of his drink and slapping the glass on the bar. "So, where were you that past week?"

Clint shrugged. "Mission. Only got back a couple of hours ago."

"Successful?"

"You could say that." He paused. "So, how's Wanda? I haven't seen her since I stepped off of the plane and I was wondering where she was. I've been meaning to talk to her about something."

"She's doing extra training with Steve and Natasha. She didn't seem to be too happy about it when they dragged her off," Pietro frowned.

"She coping so far?"

Pietro took his time to respond to Clint's question. Coping was a tricky word to give an answer to. Ever since the night where he had discovered her collapsed on the floor of the simulation room with Ginny, Wanda had been more forthcoming with her thoughts, a fact that profoundly relieved Pietro. She had told him about the nightmares – that she was still having on and off – and the way she felt after doing one of those interrogations – crippled, guilty, and terrified, so at least she was talking to someone. In that respect, at least, she was coping. But over the last few weeks, she had become more secretive than ever. She no longer turned up to so many parties or interviews, seeming to retreat inside herself and whenever Pietro knew that she had a free moment, she was somewhere else in the facility and it was beginning to wear down on him. "Yeah," Pietro said after a while. "She's coping. Vision is making it easier for her and so is Sam."

Because whether he wanted to admit it or not, Sam and Vision, Pietro thought sullenly, were some of the few people besides Pietro and Clint who had managed to get through to his sister. He found himself to be a little bit jealous at the fact, realising that Wanda now had a whole host of people whom she could talk to. But as long as she didn't leave him out, then he supposed that he was okay with it. For now, at least, anyway.

"I've heard that she's still keeping in close contact with Prewett. I don't know how she manages it, seeing as the rest of us can't seem to get close to her."

Pietro couldn't agree more. His sister would often come up to him and say that she had just seen Ginny or that she had just been talking to her or meeting up with her, but when he enquired about doing the same thing, then Ginny was always busy, studying for her latest exam or whatever it else that recruits spent their time doing.

Sighing with frustration as he realized that the redhead was once again at the forefront of his thoughts, Pietro stared blankly at the wall. "Neither do I," he said finally. "Neither do I."

"You tried contacting her as well, then?"

Pietro shrugged. "Yeah, but I understand. She is busy." He hated how his voice sounded so bitter about the fact.

"Maria says, though, and trust me, she isn't happy about this, that she's doing okay. Prewett, that is. We all know that she was put into the program due to her past and as a bit of a trust… exercise and so far, well, nothing's happened."

"And nothing will happen," Pietro said, surprising himself with his vehemence. "I mean, I get the fact that she is – was – someone else, but she hid those things for a reason and besides, she is not a bad person. Being in this business… You learn when someone means you harm pretty quickly."

Clint sighed. "And I agree with you, kid, but as someone who's served in this business for years, it's a good thing to make sure. Words aren't everything."

"But you trusted me and Wanda almost straight away, even though we had been supporting HYDRA, ready to kill all of you."

"Yeah," Clint said slowly, "and people were against that too. In fact, Maria was pissed when she heard, but you saved my life. You and your sister saved all of our lives and countless others when you joined us and there's nothing better than a trial by fire to prove someone's loyalty. Hell, I knew back when you were still in awe and not so bored of S.H.I.E.L.D. that you – that you both – were trustworthy people. It just takes others, namely spies, a while to see that." Clint grinned suddenly and Pietro eyed him warily. "So, how's Karol? It was Karol, wasn't it?"

Pietro scowled fiercely at Clint, not wanting to think about the black haired beauty whom he had met on the weekend. "Karol is fine."

"Cool," Clint nodded. "I just wanted to know, seeing as, you know, had a bit of a thing for Prewett a month ago. I just wanted to make sure that you-"

This time, instead or irritation, Pietro felt a flood of embarrassment flood him as he hissed at Clint for him to stop. Couldn't he see that he was just trying to get over it? Besides, it wasn't like he had ever actually had a chance in the first place anyway.

And he had more important things to worry about, like preparing for this mission. He had no time to think about girls, specifically redheaded ex-secretaries.

* * *

Ginny was no stranger to stress or pressure. In fact, it was probably the only reason why she was still alive today, but even she had to admit that she was currently pushing her limits. Every single moment of the day, something was happening. She either had to be in a class or studying or brushing up on her skills in the gym or talking with Wanda and then there was all of the catch up work that she had to do as well. Merlin, even her studying for her OWLs hadn't been as bad as this. She sat back in the chair, weariness and irritation lining her figure, as she began to gather up her various books on protocol, basic medicine, and theory in the field. Seeing as she had been unceremoniously dumped in the middle of the course, she had missed four weeks worth of assessments, classes and information and although she was still studying her ass off in order to catch up, she still wasn't at the same level that the others were at.

It wasn't just the studying itself though. It was more about the information that she was studying. Ginny, coming into this job, had been comfortable in her knowledge of the Muggle world, quite sure that she would be perfectly fine. Besides, she had done well enough in her position as a secretary, having gotten used to the Muggle way of doing things, like sending emails, using phones, and locking her room at the touch of a screen instead of a locking charm. But this? Ginny hadn't realised how much she didn't know about the Muggle world. Her lack of history and IT knowledge was embarrassingly poor and she didn't even want to think about chemistry and biology, where she had reached new levels of low. The only thing that she felt mildly confident in, strangely enough, was her knowledge of mathematics and she thanked her lucky stars that she had chosen to take both Arithmancy and Ancient Runes at Hogwarts, where maths was essential to understanding both subjects.

Ginny, though, much to her surprise wasn't the only one having problems and she often found herself surrounded by many of her peers as they struggled through understanding the pharmacology of certain drugs – they had to know basic medicine in the field – and remembering all of the secret skirmishes and miniature wars that S.H.I.E.L.D. had been a part of over the years. It was frightening, Ginny thought as she got to her feet tiredly, to realise how much the general public was in the dark about all of this. They just lived their lives, not even aware of how different their futures could have been.

She shoved the books in a bag and began to make her way towards her quarters, her head still swirling with the information that she had forced her mind to absorb. The other women in her dorm were nice enough, she supposed. She had not yet become all that close to any of the five women, but she was acquainted with them well enough to call them her friends. First, there was Annika, an Indian nurse not that much older than Ginny was. She was quiet, but resourceful and extremely firm when she wanted to be, something that had made Ginny respect her almost immediately. She had accidentally gotten involved with S.H.I.E.L.D. back in Sokovia, where she had helped save a lot of lives; she had been working for an aid organisation at the time and had simply gotten caught in the crossfire. But she had impressed a lot of people with her quick thinking and her professionalism, so S.H.I.E.L.D. had snapped her up. Out of all of them, Annika was the one whom Ginny felt the most comfortable with and she found herself hoping, that in the next few months, they would become proper friends.

Then there was Anna, an ex German soldier who had worked in the German Air Force for several years before coming onto S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar. She was tall, confident, blonde and highly intelligent, able to memorise and understand facts in mere seconds. Ginny supposed that she was all right once you got past her sullen face and her sharp words, but it had taken both her and Anna a while to warm up to each other and they were still prone to heated arguments over the most ridiculous of things. Ginny supposed that the age difference didn't help all of that much either.

Jessica was only a year older than Ginny was, but out of all of them, was easily the most experienced when it came to the spy world. Coming from ASIO, the Australian spy agency, the blonde had already been a part of countless operations and already knew and understood a great deal of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s protocols, a fact that Ginny was still highly jealous of. She was quiet, detached, and serious, never saying more than she was required to say and never doing anything that she wasn't required to do. She was unnerving, Ginny had decided, in her constant silence, but she was able to respect that. After all, it wasn't as though Ginny spoke a great deal either, seeing as she spent her time studying than doing anything else.

Amira was originally from Syria, but when the political situation had rapidly escalated several years ago, had lived in America for the last few years after her family had sent her away for her safety. Alone with distant relatives and presented with a language barrier that she didn't know how to get over, she had buried herself in the endless constrains of the Internet where she had found an escape within endless lines of code. It hadn't taken long before she was a formidable hacker. But one day, Amira liked to jokingly inform her, a couple of months ago, she had gotten a little bit too bold and had attempted to hack the CIA where S.H.I.E.L.D. was instantly notified. Instead of going to jail, S.H.I.E.L.D. had offered her a one time deal and had asked her to sign up with them, where they had said that they would teach her to refine her vast array of skills. Amira was the most open, honest and least secretive person in the entire group and Ginny privately thought that she was a breath of fresh air compared to the others. She was also a fantastic teacher; Ginny had learnt a lot from her when it came to her own sorry knowledge of anything that was IT related.

Claire was the last person in Ginny's dorm. She was the youngest at only 18 and was from South Korea. Ginny didn't know how she had come to be here at S.H.I.E.L.D., but she could guess if the haunted, desperate look in her eyes was anything to go by. When it came to combat, being up against Claire was something that you did not want to have happen to you, because she was absolutely brutal. Her technique was absolutely flawless, her moves sharp, efficient and horribly painful if you ended up being her opponent. She barely ever said anything and when she did, her words were, "Yes, sir" and, "Yes, ma'am" or, "No, sir," or "No, ma'am." When she wasn't in the gym, she was reading, and when she wasn't reading, then she was simply sleeping in the dorm room. It was highly unsettling, Ginny supposed, that she acted so closed off despite her youth.

Reaching the halls of residence, Ginny felt a wave of weariness overcome her as she yawned widely into her hand. Merlin, she needed to get more sleep, she thought blearily, typing the code into the lock and entering the hall. She ignored all of the other doors to the other dorms and continued silently to her own, hearing laughter and soft chatter echoing under some of them. The rest of her cohort was okay, she reflected. Most of them were young men and were, in most cases, cocky and eager to prove themselves, but she had unexpectedly found herself warming up to some of them and they to her.

"Hey, Gingersnap!" The voice cut through the hushed silence of the residence hall and Ginny sighed to herself at the nickname, but a small smile spread across nonetheless as she recognised the voice. Nelsen Edwards, the one person she could call a friend in this bloody place, liked to stay up just as late as she did, but he simply did it because he wanted to. She, on the other hands, did it because she had to if she didn't want to fail out of her classes. It was how they had gotten to know each other, actually.

When Ginny had first entered the program, the last thing that she had wanted to do was make friends. With anyone. But she had quickly discovered that when people like Nelsen were around, staying completely friendless wasn't going to happen. At first, it had been a couple of words shared over her textbooks and then it had been jokes – on Nelsen's side only – and then it had become tentative stories. Before Ginny realised it, she found herself looking forward to seeing him in the evening simply because he was someone to talk to. Granted, Nelsen did most of the talking with Ginny only interjecting a causal word every now and again, but it was still nice.

"If you're looking to get your ass kicked, Edwards, then you're doing a very good job," she joked rarely, turning around to face her friend.

"Aw, come on. It's a cute nickname," Nelsen grinned, jogging up to her. "And where were you, anyway? Studying? I swear to God that you do too much of that, woman. You need to calm the fuck down, because you're doing fine! In fact, you're better than probably half the people in our course and you missed a whole month."

Ginny glared at him. "You're just saying that."

Nelsen rolled his eyes. "Cool down and calm down, Union Jack. It was just a truthful statement. So, you turning in for the night?"

"Yes," Ginny said.

"I'm assuming that you're ready for the test tomorrow then."

Ginny shrugged lightly, frowning. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess. And you?"

"Oh come on. You'll ace it and I've got it all written into this brain of mine right here. It'll be easy."

Ginny wished that she could share his confidence.

"You heard the rumour then?"

"No," Ginny replied shortly and she yawned again. God, she needed to sleep.

"Well, you'll be interested to know then, that there's talk that there's going to be a selection tomorrow."

"A selection?" Ginny asked, her sudden interest wiping the tiredness away. Since she had been here, there had been only two mission selections. She hadn't, obviously, been selected for either, but they were always a huge deal amongst the recruits. Going on a mission meant that you were doing well, that you were progressing. The last two times, Ginny could understand why she hadn't been selected, but this time, she felt that she had just as much a chance as any of the others. Granted, her weapons skills needed some serious work still and her hand-to-hand combat skills weren't the best, but in that regard, she was very much average compared to the rest of the group; she wasn't the worst by any means.

"Yeah. And I've heard that this one's going to be a big one. Something to do with the Avengers or something and I've heard that if you get picked, that then you'll be training with Hawkeye and the Black Widow in order to prep for it."

Ginny's interest quickly turned to doubt, the small excitement that she had been feeling fading quickly away at the mention of the Avengers. Besides Wanda, she had cut ties with all of them, making it appear that she was constantly busy whenever she saw Sam approach or Steve smile at her. It wasn't just because of what she had told them though. No, it was focused on the fact that they were her previous bosses. Luckily and quite miraculously for her, no one knew that she had been the secretary for Maria Hill and for the first time, she had been extremely glad about the lack of connection that the recruits had to the Avengers facility, because the other trainees took things very, very seriously. If they found out that she had been working for the Avengers, they would accuse her of foul play and that was something that Ginny didn't want. Not at all. And she was going to keep it that way.

No longer feeling interest in the conversation, Ginny let her thoughts drift as she let Nelsen jabber on about the Avengers, a mix of both awe and determination in his voice. Since she had left England, she had heard from her friends several times and had even received several letters from her father, who had, as Hermione had promised her before she left, been taught how to use Muggle post methods, as there was no way that they could keep sending letters by owl to and from the facility.

The letters had been short and tentative, but they had relieved Ginny almost to the point of tears that her father was willing to keep in contact with his daughter, despite her long and unexplained absence. He had written that work was going well that he was glad that she had visited and that he hoped to see her again soon. He had also added, much to Ginny's dissatisfaction, that Ron was still getting over her sudden appearance and that he would contact her soon. Ginny would rather that he didn't.

Hermione, however, was doing much better than okay. She had recently started going on a few dates with some Wizard named Anthony. Ginny supposed that he seemed like a nice bloke from the way that Hermione described him and for that, she was glad. Hermione hadn't had it easy, especially after breaking up with her git of a brother, and this guy seemed to be making her happy. Her job, Hermione had reported enthusiastically, was also going very well with more responsibility being placed on her. Ginny was dying to ask her what it was like to be an Unspeakable, but was quite sure that she wouldn't be able to receive a response. After all, it was a very well known fact that Unspeakables were not allowed to talk about what they did on a day-to-day basis when they were in the ministry walls.

Ginny, after receiving Hermione's letter, had hastily written back, informing her of almost everything that had occurred since she had left, placing particular emphasis on her newfound involvement with the Avengers.

"So, here's to hoping, yeah?"

Ginny smiled at a distracted smile at Nelsen, completely clueless as what her dark skinned friend had just said to her, as they arrived at her dorm room. "Yeah, here's to hoping," she muttered, before saying a quick good night to Nelsen and placed her palm on the scanner, before walking into her quiet dorm room, feeling even more nervous about the coming morning.

* * *

Wanda was sitting curled up in the armchair in her apartment, her eyes greedily absorbing the words of a book on magical history that Ginny had discretely given her two days ago. She couldn't believe that an entire society lived hidden, yet completely harmoniously, with non-magical, or as she was beginning to call it, Muggle society. It was incredible and Wanda found herself grasping for more information on this new, hidden world, absently wishing that she were a part of it. Ginny had also, over the last few weeks, handed her other useful and interesting things, ranging from newspaper that had moving pictures to books on controlling magic, that had, much to her surprise, actually helped her quite a bit regarding her own wild powers.

Vision and Pietro were concerned about her, she knew, worried that she was spending too much time by herself and maybe she was, but it was time well spent and Wanda wouldn't take back a single second of it for anything. She felt extremely privileged that she had been chosen, out of all of the Avengers, to bare Ginny's desperate secret and so it was with extreme eagerness that she did everything that she could to learn more about this world that Ginny was from.

Ginny hadn't performed any more magic since that night, saying that it was dangerous to do anything in the facility right now, seeing as her position was quite precarious as it was. Wanda supposed that she could understand that, but she still wished that she were able to see more of it, more of the beautiful magic that dominated that realm. For some reason, she thought, she felt a lot more comfortable with the idea of living in the Wizarding world than this one and a part of her desperately hoped that one day, she would be able to go and visit all of the places that her book spoke about with Ginny.

It was a fanciful wish, she realized with a pang, but it was one that she wanted would come true. After all, for this world, this Muggle world, she was considered to be an anomaly, a mutant, an enhanced. But in their world… Maybe there, they would accept her.

Wanda sighed tiredly and reluctantly pushed herself out of her chair, placing the book carefully on the table, looking wistfully at the floating words that were on the cover. She had to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a big day – she had heard earlier from Natasha that there was going to be a mission in about a week's time and tomorrow would be a test to make sure that she was up to par and that she fulfilled the requirements that were expected of her as an Avenger.

She had also heard that a team of recruits were being organised and she secretly hoped that Ginny would be selected. It would be good, she decided, for a witch to be on the team and she found herself wondering if the magic shields that she had been reading about in a spell book that Ginny had also given her were able to block bullets. She made a mental note to ask Ginny about that the next time that she saw her.

She picked the book up again and walked slowly into her bedroom, tucking her book in a small hiding place that she had discovered the first week that she was here. It was a very handy space, she reflected, as she took in the other trinkets that she had placed in there. More of Ginny's books, worn photographs of her family, a necklace that her parents had given her for her tenth Birthday and a musty, light blue dress that was several sizes too small lined the small space and her fingers ran over the items thoughtfully, smiling softly as she remembered the memories that each item was associated with.

The blue dress was one that was connected with a particularly fond memory and Wanda found herself grinning unexpectedly as she grasped the rumpled fabric. Pietro had gotten her this – how he had acquired it, Wanda hadn't dared to ask – for her sixteenth birthday. After the bombing, they had been staying with a mix of different relatives and friends and one thing that they had learned, was never ask for anything more than you needed, because in the hosts weary eyes, you were already a burden. Pietro had wanted to celebrate with a small party and had even gotten the permission of the family that they were staying with, but Wanda had lightly joked that she hadn't anything to wear for any sort of party. It had been meant as a joke, not to be taken seriously, but on her sixteenth Birthday, Wanda had awoken to there being a beautiful blue dress at the foot of her small cot.

She had never had the heart to get rid of it, always carrying it around in a stuffed bundle in her purse along with the other few things that she couldn't get rid of either.

Despite her rocky start, she was glad to be here, in this facility. For the first time, she felt like she had somewhere to call home, a place that would always be constant. There was Clint, whom she hadn't been keeping in contact with much as she wanted to, and Natasha, who was protective in a way that could only be defined as special, and Vision, who had earned a special place in Wanda's heart.

Ever since Day One, Vision had been looking out for her, even when she didn't think that she needed looking out for. He had always been there, a silent support for when she needed it, a valued, trusted friend. She knew that Pietro thought that there was something going on between and maybe there would be in the future, but at the moment, besides Pietro and Ginny, he was one of her closest friends at the facility and Wanda was glad that there was someone else that she could confide in about personal matters other than Pietro, who was extremely biased.

Slowly, she got up and headed towards her bed, feeling oddly relaxed and at peace with herself as she slid into bed, the cool covers ruffling comfortably over her skin. In mere minutes, she was already caught in the throes of sleep.

* * *

 **Hey guys! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! I know that this one was a bit slower after what's been happening, but I'm now leading up to a big couple of things which will be appearing in the next few chapters, so strap in, because it's about to get bumpy.**

 **Thank you all for the new follows, favourites, reviews and reads! You are all amazing and I'm ridiculously happy that people are actually reading and enjoying this story!**  
 **To Guest: Thank you very much for reading and reviewing and I'm really glad that you're liking the story!**

 **Oh God, my finals are three weeks away from tomorrow! I'm studying hard amongst writing stuff and I'm beginning to get nervous. But I'm excited as well. So excited for it all to be over.**

 **Anyway, thank you very much for reading and I hope that you all have a lovely week! Until next Sunday :)**

 **HauntedCinders**


	18. Chapter 18

When you come out of the storm, you won't be the same person that walked in.

That's what the storm is all about.

 _Haruki Marukami_

* * *

 _Ginny sat outside, the coldness of the bench leaking into her body as she listened to the screams that were only a prelude of what was to come for her. She had tried her best to make sure that as many of them as possible had gotten away, that they wouldn't be subjected to this torture, but the Carrows were relentless and Ginny, despite her screaming protests, was only able to watch wretchedly as her friends were taken with her to the dungeons._

 _"It was my fault!" she had shrieked, outraged and terrified tears flooding her eyes. "They had nothing to do with it!"  
Even now, those same words echoed in her ears, digging cuts into her soul and Ginny turned her gaze blankly to the stone ground, deciding to ignore Luna's stoic look. The blonde looked grim and oddly down to earth – a sign of the seriousness of their situation and Ginny hated herself for being the reason that that look was there in the first place. _

_"It's not your fault," Luna's words, although whispered, echoed loudly in the empty corridor. "When we decided to go through with it, we all decided to accept responsibility. This is us," she said, flicking a glance to the locked door that was taunting them maliciously, "taking responsibility. We all knew that this could happen, that we could be caught."_

 _Luna's words ran circles in Ginny's head, round and round and round again, but she couldn't help but disagree with her blonde haired friend. She knew when she was responsible for something, and this… This was one of those times. Just like the Chamber of Secrets back in her First Year. This, however, this was worse. So much worse. Back in Second Year, she had at least been out of it to barely register what she had been doing, but now? Now she could see everything, hear everything, remember everything._

 _The door slammed open suddenly and Ginny and Luna both jumped, glancing upwards to see the sadistic grin of Alecto Carrow. Her hands, Ginny noticed with a hard swallow, were etched with blood and she had to turn her head away so as not to throw up the contents of her stomach on the icy floor. Grimly, she realized that her time had come and her hands clenched unconsciously into fists. It was only until hours later that she realized that her nails had gouged bloody imprints into her skin._

 _"Afraid, blood traitor?" the Carrow hissed, her voice slithering through the desolation that stunk out the corridor. Ginny's mouth went dry as she stood up slowly, watching as Alecto's finger beckoned her, dragged her towards the door. She let a single tear escape before her gaze hardened and she accepted her fate, walking silent into the dungeon._

When Ginny awoke, her eyes were wet with unshed tears and her sheets were drenched with cold sweat, the heavy scent of fear hanging in her nose. Her skin was clammy and place and she threw her covers violently off of her body, feeling suddenly claustrophobic as she clawed for air, hysteria from the nightmare threatening to take over her body and mind. She managed to wheeze in a single breath and shut her eyes tightly as she sat up in bed. Deep breaths, she told herself wildly. Deep breaths. Focus. That's what all of those books that she had read years ago had said.

But it wasn't working. It wasn't working and the panic grew in her chest until she felt like she would no longer breathe. Why wasn't it working? Why wasn't it working?

With a muffled sob, she stumbled out of the bed, only just managing not to fall to the ground from the top bunk, before racing to the bathroom, barely reaching the toilet in time. She missed the lights flickering on in her room as her roommates – all light sleepers – awakened.

Not even a second later, acid burned her throat and her nose and her whole body shook with tremors as she slumped weakly to the floor, wiping her mouth haphazardly with one hand. A second later, she lurched again, coughing into the toilet bowl. On her back, the scar – that irreversible, disgusting scar that the Carrows had branded her with – burned with vengeance. She thought that she was getting better, that she was finally the one who was winning this endless fight with her mind. She laughed bitterly at the thought. Oh how wrong she was.

"Ginny?"

Ginny jumped violently, raising her eyes to meet the concerned ones of Annika, who was hovering just outside the bathroom door. Dully, Ginny realized that she had forgotten to close it and she didn't miss the other women looking discretely over Annika's shoulders. Ginny felt a flood of embarrassment and turned her head away, feeling horribly, terrifyingly vulnerable. They shouldn't be seeing this. This was private.

"Are you okay?"

Ginny barely heard her question. She was too busy concentrating on her sickly, white trembling hands. Why wouldn't they stop shaking?

"Hey, Ginny." Annika snapped her fingers under her nose and Ginny glared at her fiercely, slapping her hands away. "Are you okay?"

Staggering to her feet, Ginny didn't say anything as she slowly bent over the bathroom sink, her vision swimming dizzily as she washed the bitter taste away. For a brief moment, she let her head just hang under the water, her hands grasping the sink for support as the beads trickled through her hair and down her face. The water felt good. Cleansing even and it was with regret that she turned the tap off.

"I swear to God, Prewett, if you don't say something, then I'm calling someone," Jessica's voice cracked like a whip in the forbidding silence.

But Ginny waved a hand weakly, padding slowly to the towel rack. "Don't do that," she mumbled into her towel. "Please don't do that."

"You wanna talk about it?" Amira broke in softly, her normally chipper voice sounding oddly grim. It didn't sound right.

There was a derisive snort from outside of the bathroom and then another voice spoke up, "Are you kidding, Alsiba? Of course she fucking doesn't want to talk about it."

Claire, Ginny realized absently and she turned to her quizzically. The black haired agent, however, simply stared at her, a flash of understanding running through her eyes. Ginny nodded barely perceptibly in thanks, before turning her face downwards. She wouldn't have expected that Claire would have stood up for her, defended her even. She smiled to herself bitterly. She definitely wasn't the only one who to put up with this kind of shit.

Stillness reigned in the small room, before Ginny decided to break it, her coarse voice cutting through the dense silence like a knife. "I'm going out." And she pushed past her quiet roommates, grabbing a hoody that she had earlier placed carelessly on her small cupboard. It had been given to her at the start of the program. It was a simple thing, nothing special, made of navy blue fabric and lined with a thin layer of fleece, but it was enough and it felt oddly comforting as she slipped her arms into it, tucking her hands securely into the sleeves. She stared briefly at her twisted covers, pondering as to whether or not she should straighten them, before deciding to simply leave it. She would deal with it whenever she got back.

She left the room without looking back.

The night was clear and strangely cold and Ginny felt a shiver tremble its way up her spine as her hair whipped around her face from the breeze. For the first time since she had woken up from that dreadful memory, she felt herself relax, her breath becoming easier as her tense muscles unwound themselves.

Nightmares like that weren't a regular occurrence. In fact, they were a very rare occurrence and that last time that Ginny had suffered from one as bad as tonight's had been had been over twelves months ago.

Determined to linger no more on the images or the after effects of the dream, she paced slowly away from the building and glanced almost wistfully at the Avengers Facility. It was still brightly lit, agents working despite the early hour and Ginny almost fondly remembered when she too had run around like that at all hours of the day, chasing various reports and organising obscure things. Looking back on it, Ginny wished that she had enjoyed it more. It wasn't that what she was doing now wasn't fun. In fact, it was proving to be extremely helpful, but there was never a quiet moment. There was a never a second that she could have to herself without thinking about the details for some pretend mission, or going over the corrections that she needed to make to her technique, or being yelled at to answer the next question or demonstrate the next move. And then there were the recruits themselves.

Most of them were male and in their early twenties. Some of them were grim and gaunt with whatever experiences they had already had with the darker side of the world and others were an odd mix of being fresh faced and young, hopeful yet arrogant, intelligent yet idiotic. Ginny hadn't had much to do with any of them except for Nelsen and for that, she was glad.

Absently, she wondered what Wanda was doing, questioning whether or not the brunette would still be awake. Ginny supposed that she might be, seeing as Wanda spent only a few hours asleep each night and eventually decided to walk in the direction of the facility. She may as well have a look. They hadn't had a proper talk in ages and the small five minute conversations that they did manage to have simply weren't enough to exchange any information. It was a reason why Ginny had kept passing her numerous books over the last few weeks.

Ginny hadn't known what to expect when she revealed the magical world to Wanda. Disbelief, accusations, fear… All of those and more had run through her head, her imagination eventually creating situations that were dramatic and over exaggerated. But Wanda, despite the various scenarios that her subconscious had shown her, had done none of that. Instead, she had embraced the idea with an enthusiasm that had surprised Ginny and now she always seeking more information, wanting to know more about the society that Ginny was a part of. And Ginny was all too happy to comply, relieved to share her knowledge with someone else.

She only wished that they got to spend more time together. There was so much more to show her, so much that she could teach her…

"Agent Prewett?"

Ginny breathed in sharply at the unexpected call and whipped around on her heel, watching warily as someone walked up to her out of the darkness. She breathed a sigh of relief a second later as she recognised the face of Agent Carter. Sharon Carter, as she had introduced herself to Ginny on her first day, was one their weapons instructors and it was she, out of all of the others, whom Ginny liked the most. She was a good teacher, nowhere near as rude or as demanding as many of the other mentors, and genuinely cared about the recruits that she was paired with. It was a shame that she only held one session a week.

"What are you still doing up? Everything okay?"

Ginny nodded mutely, feeling unexpectedly young as she met Carter's solemn grey eyes. It was at times like this that she really felt her age difference.

"You sure?" Carter asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ginny nodded again, tucking her hands further into her jumper. "Fine," she muttered, her voice still rough.

Carter was quiet for a moment. "It's a nice night, isn't it? Clear and cold. My favourite. When I was younger, I would love to be outside on nights like this. There's just something so freeing about being under the stars and under the night sky." She paused, a gentle look on her face as she turned her head towards the sky, her blonde hair glinting beneath the moonlight. "You know," she said softly, returning her focus back to Ginny, "I was just heading to the range to let off some steam. Would you like to come with me? We can work a little bit more on getting you more comfortable with the guns that we were working with the other day. I noticed that you're still having problems with the cartridge."

In any other circumstance, Ginny would have refused point blank. She would have told Carter a firm, "No," but to her surprise, she actually considered the offer. The older agent was right in saying that Ginny's weapons skills needed work. Not to mention, it would probably burn off some of the negative energy that was flooding through her body right now and the thought of that was highly appealing. Anything to escape the cloying effects of the dream. Anything.

And a minute later, she found herself agreeing to Carter's suggestion, her earlier thought of going to find Wanda abandoned.

* * *

"Progress report," Maria's voice was sharp in the otherwise still silence of the room, her gaze running over each of the individual trainers, who were still shuffling their papers in front of them. She sighed irritably and turned to face the window, telling herself to breathe before facing them once again. "Anyone?" she snapped finally. "Anyone at all? Come on, people, this a time sensitive mission. There's no time for fucking around. Agent Carter? What about you? Anything to say?"

The blonde looked slightly amused at Maria's disgruntled expression and Maria glared at her, waiting impatiently as she watched her gather the appropriate file.

"Well," Carter started, looking briefly at her notes, "Agents Claire Rhang, Andrei Oklov, Jessica Tel, Nelsen Edwards, Chris Reiter and Kevin Satsii have been extremely consistent over the last two months, with their training improving weekly. I suggest that we actually begin to separate the recruits into groups based either on their affinity for the job or their chosen specialities, so that we can work with them more closely. This would probably be especially helpful for someone like Claire Rhang, whose skill set is already extremely specific. As for Agent Prewett… Well, she's surprised me in terms of her dedication to her training and after working with her closely, I have noticed a few improvements in her technique. She's definitely becoming more comfortable here," Carter said, sending a meaningful glance to Maria, who nodded ever so slightly. Carter, out of all of the mentors, was the only one whom Maria had told about Prewett's unique situation. She didn't know whether or not she had confronted the girl about it, but she trusted Carter to do what she saw fit. Carter was, after all, a highly qualified agent and one of the best in the business and if anyone could handle the redhead, then it was her. "Agents Amira Alsiba, Harrison Klinger, Jacob Fyne, Kylie Gregors, Patricia Bildwin, Matthew Dender, and Francis Savier are, unfortunately, still at the bottom of the list in terms of weapons training. They know how to use a gun, they know how to shoot it, but they can't connect with it. They're all over the place. But as we all know that these people are talented in other areas, this is another reason why we propose to separate the recruits as soon as possible."

Maria nodded slowly. "I can see your point." She turned to the rest of the agents sitting at the table, Carter's suggestion lingering in her mind. She had been considering specialities for them over the last few days and found herself in agreement with Agent Carter. She had seen the footage and the reports and there were some of them that were more than ready to move on. "And what do the rest of you have to say? Prail?"

The balding man sighed and rubbed his temples. "I don't know why you're having me teach them mathematics to them, Agent Hill, when all they want to do is anything other than work with numbers."

Maria, against her will, smirked a small smirk. "It won't be for much longer. And you, Agent West?"

West, one of their most able-bodied and skilled combat trainers, stared stoically at Maria and it was almost as though she could see the cogs turning in his head as he prepared his response. He had always been like that; methodical, logical, and clear minded. It was what made him such a good agent. "What I have to say is similar to what Agent Carter said," he said eventually. "Rhang, in particular, is at the top of my list. She still remains to be unbeatable, but then and again, that shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone sitting here. Edwards is also doing particularly well. Reiter has surprised me in terms of his technique. When I first saw him, I thought that there was no hope for him in all of hell. But he's proven me wrong, something that a lot of people aren't able to do."  
Maria nodded contemplatively. Reiter had been a wildcard from the beginning, but it was good that the Austrian was finally proving himself to be somewhat talented. "And Agent Prewett?"

West frowned and tapped his chin lightly at the mention of their most recent trainee's name. "It is true that she can fight, but she is brutal in her movements and unrefined in her style, a reason why she rarely wins her sparring matches with the other recruits. She is ruled by her emotions and not her training, which, if she goes out into the field, could not only endanger herself but also those around her. Hand to hand combat," he said seriously, looking around the table, "as we all very well know, is about staying in control and at this point in time, she doesn't have that yet."

Maria nodded, satisfied with his response and went on to question the other mentors, listening carefully to what each one had to say. In a way, they all made similar points and by the end of it, had convinced Maria that it was time for the recruits to specialise. She announced that placements would be given in two weeks time, already creating mental lists regarding different types of specialities. Again and again, though, the same names cropped up in their conversation. Rhang, Edwards, Tel, Reiter, Prewett. Maria wasn't sure whether or not to be pleased that her former secretary was doing reasonably well or surprised that she was passing all of Maria's mental boundaries with flying colours with every day that passed. In fact, now that a month had passed, Maria was becoming surer that Prewett really had been telling the truth regarding her loyalty to her new profession. She hadn't made any suspicious moves, despite the monitor that was reserved just for her in the surveillance lab recording every move that she made. She hadn't said anything to anyone, she hadn't contacted anyone, the few emails that she had sent were strictly limited to work only, and she hadn't made a single phone call. In other words, at this stage, Prewett was proving herself to be a woman of her word and Maria cautiously hoped that it would stay that way. Besides, she had seen the tapes and the tests and it would be a shame to lose someone who had the capacity to make a good agent.

"All right," Maria collected her thoughts, as the sixth and final agent finished with her report. "I want you all to propose one agent each for the upcoming mission. As you are aware, this mission is sensitive; don't pick anyone who you know won't be able to handle the stress or the pressure."

West shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he surveyed the other agents sitting at the table. Maria knew who he was going to pick without even hearing the answer. "In that case, I propose Agent Claire Rhang. She's efficient and professional and is more than qualified for a job such as this one."

Maria nodded and wrote the agent's name into the tablet. She raised an eyebrow at the others, waiting for them to do the same.

"Agent Nelsen Edwards."

"Jessica Tel."

"Kevin Satsii."

"Chris Reiter."

Maria turned to Carter expectantly, now the only mentor who hadn't proposed anyone. "Agent Carter?"

The blonde agent sighed in resignation before her final answer sounded throughout the room. "Agent Ginny Prewett."

Maria's hand froze over her tablet. Surely Carter, a level headed, experienced agent hadn't just suggested Ginny Prewett, an agent who was suspected of being a spy for an opposing agent?

"Are you joking?" was Maria's first response.

But Agent Carter just stared at her, perfectly and utterly serious and Maria withheld a groan of frustration.

"Why?" she demanded. "As we've discussed throughout the course of this meeting, we've managed to establish that while talented, Prewett still needs a lot of work. Do you think that she would be able to cope with something like this?"

Carter didn't back down, her expression now morphing into one of sheer grimness and determination and Maria sighed in irritation. Carter was famed for her stubbornness. "I don't think that she'll be able to cope with something like this. I _know_ that she'll be able to cope with something like this."

"But-" Prail broke in.

"Look, I know what's been said about her and I agree with every word, but I think everyone is missing the point here," Carter said. "I know that not all of the recruits have seen combat. Hell, some of them haven't had any experience with death. But she's seen it. She's done it. She's made the hard choices and you can tell. Out of all of the agents here, she's one of the few that doesn't complain, one of the few who stays up for hours working her ass off in order to catch up to the others, one of the few who looks at the whole picture and not just the mission. Yes, she uses her emotions as tools when she fights and yes, that is reckless, but you've all seem to forgotten that she uses her head for everything else. Have you seen her mission plans?" Carter snorted. "Except for perhaps Rhang, hers are the most thought through. The most planned. She looks at every angle, calculates all of the risks."

"And how do you know so much about her?" one of other agents snapped.

"Because last night, or early this morning I should say, I had the opportunity to do some one-on-one training with her. Trust me, she needs something like this. If it goes badly for her, then she's learnt something. If it goes well, then she's also learnt something. I'm sorry, Agent Hill, but I'm not going to change my mind."

* * *

Ginny let her pen drop onto the table and rubbed her eyes in exhaustion, glad that the test was finally over. It had been harder than she had predicted and she hoped that she had at least passed, not knowing the correct answers to at least a quarter of the questions. She glanced surreptitiously at her classmates, wondering how they had gone, and was greeted with a few panicked stares, satisfied smirks and plain nonchalance. It would seem that she wasn't the only who had struggled with the test and the thought was a relief.

"Everyone, listen up!" their supervising agent, Rita Grandeau yelled at them, as a group of other agents wove their way through the mass of desks, picking up the test papers. "The following agents whose names I read out must stay behind."

Ginny's ears pricked up in interest. The last time that people had been asked to stay behind, they had been dismissed from the program. She felt a flicker of nervousness, as Grandeau's eyes raked over them, hoping suddenly that it wasn't she whose name would be on the list. Maybe they had found out about her nightmares. Maybe one of the girls in the room had told one of the instructors and now her position here was going to be compromised?

"Agents Reiter, Rhang, Prewett, Edwards, Tel, and Satsii, you will all be staying here. The rest of you will continue to your next class. That'll be all. Dismissed." There was a combined movement in the hall, as those who stood up slid their chairs on the hard ground and Ginny didn't miss that gleeful and uncertain looks that the leaving agents passed to the ones who had been asked to stay behind. Ginny supposed that they all thought that those on the list were going to get in trouble and maybe, she guessed apprehensively, they were. But Claire Rhang was on the list. They wouldn't put her on the list for dismissal or for misconduct. She was too damn good at her job. The same could be said for Edwards and Reiter. Why her name was on the list, though, was a mystery to Ginny.

While her skills had improved and while she most certainly was not the worst in the cohort, she wasn't the best either. Nowhere near it, in fact. She felt a sudden blossom of fear as she wondered if they had been asked to stay behind for a mission, realising only now that the best agents in the group had been selected. What if the rumour that Edwards had heard really was true? What if this was the group that had been selected to do a mission with the Avengers?

Ginny hoped that it wasn't true. She didn't know if she would be able to cope with something like that.

The door banged open suddenly and the gazes of the six recruits snapped over to the door in curiosity, before mixed expressions consisting of suspicion and awe passed over their faces. Ginny, however, she felt only dread as her previous thoughts were confirmed. This was for a mission. She had been selected for a mission. Why the hell had they selected her for a bloody mission? She found herself glaring as Agent Maria stalked over to them, several tablets stacked carefully in her arms and an unimpressed grimace on her face. Was this a test of her loyalty to S.H.I.E.L.D., Ginny wondered, or was it simply a game? A sick, wretched game?

"Agents," Maria greeted briskly, blatantly ignoring them as she paced over to a small group of tables. "If you'll move over to these tables over here, then we can start."

Ginny sighed nervously but got to her feet with the other recruits and walked over to where Maria had situated herself. "I'm sure that you're all wondering why you've been asked to stay behind and the answer, which does not under any circumstance leave this room, is because you six have selected to be a part of a mission that will be going down in six days time." She started handing out the tablets. Ginny grasped hers hesitantly in her hands and tapped the button, turning it on. "As such, from this day onwards, you will be undergoing extremely specific training in order to prepare for the mission. Your new timetables for these days are on these tablets, as are all of the other mission details, which I will now go over for you. I won't be repeating this, so listen up. And as I already said, not one word of what I am about to tell you leaves this room. If I hear any word about this in the other recruits, then you will be taken off the mission. Got it?" She glared at all of them, her gaze lingering slightly longer on Ginny who simply stared unforgivingly back. "Right. We recently discovered a large HYDRA base near Moraine Lake, Canada. You'll find exactly where on the map that is on your tablets. It's in a difficult location, buried in the mountains, meaning that-"

"They'll see us coming," Claire murmured, her eyes glued to the tablet. She looked up abruptly, her dark brown eyes serious and questioning. "You said that this was going to be a take down mission, but I fail to see how we would be able to take anyone down when it's just the six of us and we're recruits. Do we have back up or are we the back up? What's the deal?"

Maria shot her an approving stare. "Good question. Congratulations, you're all a part of the back up for the Avengers Initiative."

* * *

 **Hey guys! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. Things are beginning to roll now and it makes me excited for the future chapters!**

 **If you spotted any mistakes in the chapter, then please let me know so that I can go and fix it ASAP!**

 **Thanks to all of the new favourites, follows, and reviews! You're all super awesome.**  
 **To Katrina: Thanks for your review! And yes, to answer your question, the Avengers will definitely be returning and will be playing a couple of big roles in the next few chapters. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **To Guest (Miss Lucky Ducky): Thank you for your review! And no, I'm not a Ron basher, although, I do admit that it may sometimes seem that way. He's the bad guy at the moment, but he always won't be in that role. I'm just trying to keep him in character and what I know from reading the books, is that he's as stubborn as all hell. There is definitely going to be more involvement of the MoM in future as well as a couple of Ginny's 'magical' friends. In fact, they are going to be playing a couple of large roles. Anyway, thank you again for your review and if you have any more questions, let me know!**

 **To nonameyetnonono: Thanks for your review! And you are most certainly correct in saying that the phrase is 'then and again'. The phrase that you saw was most probably a typo, so I shall have to see if I can go and find it. As for Civil War? Well, no, I'm not a big hint dropper, mainly because of the fact that I don't know how related the film is going to be to this story. I don't want to set something up and then figure out that it was the wrong way to go. When Civil War comes out, I may it in, but even if I did, it wouldn't be until later. A lot later. Anyway, thank you again! Your support is very much appreciated :)**

 **Oh my God! People, I got tickets to an early showing of Civil War! I am so, so, so excited. It's on the 27th of April (which is only a day early, but anyway). It's before my exams, which is both a good thing and a bad thing, but still. As for my exams, they are now officially two weeks from tomorrow and I'm getting nervous! This is my last week at school before I have a week of study leave and then it's going to hit me real hard for three weeks. As for this story, well, you guys will have another two updates before I take a two week break for my exams.**

 **I hope that you all have a great week and if any of you are suffering from studying to hard, then I understand and I wish you luck! This story is the only thing that's keeping me sane.**

 **Until next Sunday!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	19. Chapter 19

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass... It's about learning to dance in the rain.

 _Vivian Greene_

* * *

"What? I swear to God, Maria, please tell me that that's a joke."

"I'm not joking," Maria muttered. "Although I wish I was."

"Who suggested her?"

"Sharon Carter did. I tried talking her down. We all did. But you know how she gets."

Natasha fell silent as the two agents wound their way through the corridors, still unable to grasp what Maria had just told her. She had respect for Carter. She was a good agent who was capable, smart, and in her opinion, skilled at her job. Why the fuck would she make a decision like that, though? Ginny Prewett was a liability and they all knew it, unless Carter knew something that the rest of them didn't. Natasha decided that she wouldn't be surprised if she did. The blonde had a certain way of coaxing information out of people and had an annoying habit of always being right. This time, however, Natasha didn't know if Carter was correct in her decision. It was true that Prewett had potential, but for the moment, that's all it was. Potential.

"She said," Maria continued, "that she would take responsibility for everything, including all of her training for the upcoming days."

"Did she?"

"She did," Maria confirmed.

"Well," Natasha said grimly, "it looks like I may have to sneak in and join them from time to time, see if it's going anywhere, because I am not having someone who is incapable of doing their job on the mission."

"I hear you."

"When are they starting?"

"Right now, actually," Maria said. "The others are already heading to the gym to meet with Barton and Rogers. Prewett's headed off with Carter."

"Where to?"

"One of the smaller gyms on the south side."

Natasha nodded to herself and made a mental note to go and see them when she got the time.

"And when's the first debrief with the recruits and the team?"

"Early tomorrow morning. I'll send you the exact time and location in a few hours. It's good to have you back."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "It's good to be back. Trust me, Sydney is a great city, but on missions like I was just on… Let's just say that the city no longer seems as beautiful is it did before. And how's everyone here doing?"

"Fine. Wanda's shut herself off more, though," Maria added with a slight frown. "She does her training, but it's like she's constantly distracted by something. I've asked Pietro, but he's just as in the dark as we are on this."

Natasha pursed her lips. That wasn't a response that she wanted to hear. Wanda, over the last few months, had come a long way. She had gained a semblance of control over her powers and had even found a few tentative friends at the Facility. While she was still volatile and secretive, traits that Natasha could very much understand, if this new found secrecy was having an impact on her training, then that could have negative repercussions for all of them. "Have you talked to her? Has Clint?"

"I was hoping that you would."

Natasha sighed. Why did Maria have to pick her for this? She wasn't good at any of this emotional shit. "And where is she?"

"Simulation room."

"I'll go see her then," Natasha grumbled in resignation. "And what about Fury? Have you heard from him since he went dark a month ago?"

Maria shook her head grimly. "Haven't heard anything. The stubborn bastard will still be alive, but it'd be nice if he let us know."

Natasha silently agreed and left Maria at the next break in the corridor. She started heading towards the gym, trying to formulate a way that she could get through to Wanda. The girl was deceptively difficult to talk to, a fact that Natasha both respected and hated, and she wished that Clint were with her. There was a reason why he made such a good father and God knew that she could use some of his wit and humour at a time like this. But Clint had gone to visit his family for a much-needed visit for a few days and although he would be back later this evening, she couldn't help but think, somewhat selfishly, that he was always gone when she needed him.

She stalked into the gym, inhaling the dense air deeply as she wove around the various pieces of equipment and mats. Ever since she could remember, she had loved walking into a gym. People would ask her why, grimacing as they thought of the dank odour of sweat and tears, but all Natasha could smell was the satisfaction, the freedom that came with a good work out session. It was second to none, she smirked, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Steve and Pietro were punching it out on one the large gym floor. It seemed, she noted with approval, that the older Maximoff twin was finally improving. His hits were more accurate and there was more power behind his strikes, his moves less irrational and more logical. He wasn't perfect, not by a long shot, Natasha thought to herself as she watched the silver haired speedster dart around Steve and deliver a sharp kick to the soldier's kidneys, but he was definitely getting there. She would have said the same about his sister, but after hearing Maria's report, she no longer knew if that was the case.

From the beginning, she had known that Wanda was going to be more of a challenge. The girl was even more suspicious than her brother was and she was a lot more volatile. Pietro, when he was frustrated, would simply resort to running or punching worthless objects, but Wanda? Wanda could destroy a room in mere seconds if she lost control.

"Nat!" Steve called over to her and she turned to him, her thoughts scattering as she smirked at him. "You're back. How was Sydney?"

"Eh," she said lightly. "The city's kind of ruined for me now, but that's the nature of the mission. Pietro," she greeted, almost as an afterthought.

Pietro nodded back in acknowledgement, still stretching out his muscles from his match for his Steve.

"Have you heard?" she asked suddenly, looking pointedly at Steve. "About the recruits?"

Steve's light expression transformed into one of seriousness. "Yeah. I'm not happy about it, but I trust… Sharon." He almost seemed to choke over her name and Natasha rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I've also seen the footage," Steve added quickly with a quick glare at Natasha, "and she does have the potential to make a good agent. Plus, she has experience. That can only be a good thing. And she may even surprise us."

"Wait," Pietro interjected, a suspicious look etched on his face. "Who are you talking about?"

"Agent Ginny Prewett," Steve answered with a frown before Natasha could protest against it and she sighed to herself in irritation. There was a reason why she hadn't specifically stated Prewett's name. "She's on the back up team that's coming with us. Is it Sharon who's working with her then?"

Natasha nodded, glancing briefly at Pietro whose mouth had pursed into a tight line. "Yeah," she said carefully, focusing her gaze back on Steve, "I'm going to be paying them a visit a little bit later on."

"Wait," Pietro interrupted and Natasha turned to him again in irritation.

"What?"

"Ginny Prewett is a part of the mission?"

"Yes," Natasha said, raising an eyebrow. "She is. You got a problem with that?"

"Yes," Pietro said heatedly. "She is only a recruit still! She has no training, not like what we've or the others have had!"

Natasha's eyes narrowed, but she didn't say anything bar a curt goodbye to Steve before continuing on her way to the simulation room, ignoring the accusing stare that he was boring into her back. She, after all, agreed with everything that the Sokovian speedster had just said. It was just that he didn't need to know that.

"Vision," she acknowledged, walking into the control room and letting the door slam shut behind her. The room was oddly cool today and Natasha felt a shiver tingle through her body, only just managing to suppress it.

"Agent Romanoff," the android turned to her in surprise. "I must admit that I wasn't expecting you to be back until tomorrow."

Natasha shrugged lightly. "Mission finished early." She tilted her head in the direction of Wanda, whose ferocious red was lighting up the room, and stepped closer to the viewing window. "How's she doing?"

Vision turned to face the brunette, Natasha only just seeing the flicker of concern that passed across his face. "She is… distancing herself," he said finally. "She is forcing herself as well. I have tried talking to her, but I must admit that I have not had much luck. I am… worried, if that is indeed the correct word, for her. She is pushing herself harder than anyone here and I am," Vision paused, "anxious that she will hurt herself."

Natasha grimaced, her eyes glancing at the screen that displayed Wanda's vitals. They were all over the place, she observed with displeasure. "Well, you wouldn't be the only one. How much longer until it ends?"

"Thirty seconds."

"Good."

* * *

"Again!" Carter barked at Ginny. "Come on Prewett, I chose you for a reason. Now prove it."

Ginny gritted her teeth and neatly dodged Carter's kick, ducking under her leg and spinning on her heel before attempting to elbow the older woman in the face. Carter, though, had already raised her own arm in defence and Ginny's strike was dully deflected as Carter aimed a sharp punch into Ginny's abdomen. A second later, her stomach exploded in pain and Ginny withheld a pained groan as she glared at the blonde.

"Don't get messy, Prewett," Carter warned as Ginny recovered. "Remember what I told you. Don't let your emotions rule your fists. Again."

Ginny scowled and slid back into her fighting stance. Merlin, by the time that she got back to her room tonight, if she ever got back, she was going to be black and blue all over and the idea was not a pleasant one. She glanced briefly at the clock that hung on the wall and sighed to herself wearily. She still had hours before lunch officially started and she was already aching, her light gym clothes drenched with sweat.

Ginny almost missed Carter's fist surging towards her and she only just managed to block it at last minute, the shock of the impact running uncomfortably down her right arm. A second later, her other arm was moving forward in the direction of Carter's stomach, but that too was effectively redirected and Ginny had to drop to the ground to avoid getting smashed in the face by Carter's heel, that was now swinging around in an elegant roundhouse kick. Ginny rolled into a crouch and spun, using Carter's momentum as a chance to defend herself as she targeted the back of her left knee with a brutal hit. The blonde fell to the ground.

"Now, that's what I'm talking about," Carter said breathlessly, getting back to her feet and pulling Ginny up with her. "Did you notice what you just did? You fought with your head. You saw an opportunity and you took it, instead of just lashing out without direction. That's a good start. It means that I made the right choice."

"Speaking of which," Ginny asked, catching her breath as she grounded herself back into the gym floor, "why the hell did you pick me, anyway? There are others that are more qualified, talented, and experienced than I am."

"Yeah," Carter shrugged, "but you're all of those things, aren't you? Ground your left foot more into the floor. Hand-to-hand is all about being grounded and about working with what's given to you, so use the floor. Push into the floor.""

Ginny attempted to do so and shot a careful glance at Carter who nodded in satisfaction.

"Better. Do you feel the difference?"

Ginny hesitated and closed her eyes, feeling the shift in her weight and storing the sensation in her memory for later. "Yeah. And you never answered my question."

"Good," Carter went on as though Ginny hadn't spoken. "Remember that difference. It'll save your life. Now, try and hit me again. And we'll talk. Promise."

It was over two hours later that Ginny stumbled out of the gym for a lunch break with Carter, tired, sore, and absolutely certain that there was no part of her that had escaped Carter's brutal session. She had been slammed, knocked, shoved, and flipped to the floor in such a multitude of different ways that she was positive that there was no other way that she could possibly fall onto the gym mat. She had to admit, though, that Carter was good. Very good and despite the bodily harm that she was experiencing, there was no doubt in her mind that everything that Carter was doing would eventually pay off. She just hoped that it would be enough to get her mission ready.

Ginny, however, despite all of her misgivings about the upcoming mission, was actually and surprisingly excited. After the war, she didn't think that she would ever be able to get back into this, but now she realized that she never should have left it. She loved the adrenaline, the way it sharpened the senses, making her aware of every possible and insignificant detail. She loved the unpredictability of it, the action, but perhaps most of all, she loved the power that it gave her. It was a reminder that she wasn't weak and that she was capable, capable of fighting for herself and for others and that, despite her losses and her tragedies, she could be strong.

"Agent Prewett?" Carter's voice cut through her thoughts and she turned to the blonde agent, ignoring the subtle concern in her mentor's stare.

"You seemed pretty far away just then. You mind me asking where you went?"

Ginny did mind. "I was just thinking," was all she replied, her words sounding curt even to her own ears.

Carter nodded slowly. "So, earlier I said that we would talk and make sure that you understand everything that you need to, but this isn't a one-way street, Prewett," she said firmly, her voice quiet. "If you want me to help you, then you're going to have to give me something to work with here."

"And who said anything about help?" Ginny challenged, not liking the direction in which the conversation was turning. "All I want to know is why I was picked for the mission above everyone else, when I'm clearly not the best there is to choose from."

"The answer to that is somewhat complicated."

"Then tell me anyway," Ginny insisted. "I want to know."

The blonde was silent for a moment, before saying, "Half the reason why I chose you is because of what I saw last night. When I ran into you outside, you looked… trapped. Look, I don't need you to tell me why or how you looked that way, but that was when I knew that this wasn't all about fun and games to you – that you're not some secretary out to prove yourself. For whatever reason, Prewett, you need this mission and don't say that you don't – I only ever see that look in the eyes of people who are truly desperate."

* * *

Pietro paced in the cafeteria edgily, glancing up at the entryway every few seconds, looking for the familiar shock of red that would signal Ginny's arrival. Ever since he had found out that she would be going with them, all Pietro had wanted to do was see her and try and talk her out of going. It was irrational, he told himself, seeing as he knew how capable Ginny really was. It also, he decided somewhat guiltily, wasn't his place.

But she had only been in training for a month and if no one else was going to look out for her, then he sure as hell was. Hell, he had been training for around seven months and he still didn't feel ready. Every day, he learned something new, a new way to both protect himself and any potential innocents that were around him. But Ginny didn't have that. She _hadn't_ had that and a week's worth of intense training wouldn't be enough to fix it either.

"Pietro, come and sit down," Wanda called over to him from one of the tables. "It will go cold."

Pietro sent her a tense smile and reluctantly did as he was told, his gaze still focused very much on the doors to the cafeteria.

"What has got you so tense, brother?" Wanda asked him lightly, a teasing smirk on her face. "It's been a while since you've been so… fidgety. Is it Penelope? Is that her name? No?" Wanda grinned wickedly. "Definitely a girl, then. Who is it this time?"

"You seem awfully cheery for someone who just talked to Romanoff," Pietro muttered, looking with slight distaste at the cafeteria food. It was, undeniably, good food but it wasn't the type of food that Pietro wanted right now and so he glared at the pile of vegetables with vengeance. "What did she want anyway?"

Wanda's smile tightened, her good mood disappearing, and she poked at her own food with her fork. "She said that I'm cutting myself off from everyone. That I'm growing secluded. She said that herself and other members on the team are… worried for me."

"And are you? Cutting everyone off, I mean," Pietro asked. "Because I couldn't care less about them, but you don't start ignoring me, got it?"

Wanda rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes," she muttered. "I'm just tired and everyone keeps pushing me to do things that I'm not ready for. It's annoying."

"Well, make you sure that you tell them that," Pietro told her seriously. "Or I will."

Wanda smiled a small smile at him, spooning spaghetti into her mouth. Wanda, he knew, loved spaghetti. "Did you hear about Ginny, then?" she prodded, her mouth full. "I'm glad that she's coming."

Pietro snorted. "Glad? No. No, I am not glad. She isn't ready. She isn't qualified to do something like this. She isn't strong enough."

His sister simply shrugged her shoulders, her fork diving back into the mound of noodles. "I think that she is. I think that she needs this."

Pietro scoffed obnoxiously and tossed his head. "What she needs is to stay-"

"Here? Is that what you were going to say, Maximoff?"

Pietro froze as the accented voice floated around his ears. Why was it that she always had to come at the worst times?

"Were you going to say that I need to stay here for my own good? My own benefit? To keep me 'safe'?" the redhead in question hissed, stepping even closer to him. "Well, thanks but no thanks. I don't need your opinion, especially seeing as I'm going anyway and there's not a bloody thing that you can do about it."

Pietro finally turned around, his mouth already open to heatedly protest, but he found that he couldn't say anything as his eyes landed on her imposing figure. God, he realized suddenly, he had missed her. He hadn't thought that he would, but he found himself drinking her up. He had missed seeing her furious, flushed face, her blazing brown eyes, her orange hair that twisted and fluttered whenever there was a soft breeze. He had missed her accent, her forever rolling eyes and the simplicity of the things that she had told him in the tone that only she had. He had missed her dry, raging insults and her cold nature which, when she had left, was beginning to become slightly warmer. But then she had entered the recruit program and she hadn't seen him and he hadn't seen her. Would it go back to the beginning for them? He wondered. Would he have to try and break down her walls once again?

Had he always seen her this way? Pietro didn't know. In fact, when it came to Ginny, he found that he didn't know anything. She was unpredictable, the reason that he had tried to lose himself in the petty fantasies of the women that had turned up to several of Stark's parties. She was one of the few people in the world who could possibly understand what he and Wanda had been through.

"I wasn't going to say that," Pietro said eventually and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wanda snigger to herself. He decidedly ignored her.

"Uh huh. And what was it that you were going to say?"

"I just think that you're not ready."

"And what makes you think that? You haven't seen me, after all."

Was it just him, or did Pietro detect a trace of bitterness in Ginny's voice. For some reason, Pietro felt vaguely satisfied as he heard it.

"Well, you're not," Pietro said sharply. "Just because you've been in a war doesn't mean that you are better than anyone else."

Ginny scoffed incredulously. "And how the hell did you arrive at that conclusion, you git? What," she mocked, "you think that I want to go on this mission? I was ordered to do this and I'm going to bloody do what I'm told to do. You could at least help but not making me feel like a useless pile of shit." And Ginny stormed from the hall, blatantly ignoring the curious stares that followed her out of it. He turned to Wanda helplessly. Why did that always happen any time that they tried to talk? Was a simple conversation too much to ask? Apparently, he thought savagely, it was and he turned his fuming gaze back towards his plate of food. If Ginny wanted to act like a child, then that was fine by him.

"What are you doing?"

"Eating. Like you told me to," Pietro snapped at his sister.

"Aren't you going to follow her?"

Pietro disregarded the bemused tone in Wanda's voice. "Follow her? Are you joking?"

"Are you?" Wanda challenged. "I hope that you are, but then and again, I shouldn't be surprised. You always had a… a way with women, but the way that you had certainly wasn't emotional," she smirked and Pietro felt his cheeks flush.

Why did Wanda have to do this? Why did she always bait him like this? It wasn't fair.

"Fine," he glared, getting up out of his seat. "I will go and look for her."

It didn't take long too find her, but when he did, Pietro couldn't help but feel somewhat impressed with the distance that she had managed to cover in such a short space of time.

"Ginny!" Pietro yelled across the field towards her rapidly retreating figure. "Ginny!" he yelled again, but she didn't slow her violent pace. Pietro sighed to himself and cursed his irrational temper. Why had he done that? Why had he gone and said what he had said? His sister had always told him that his big mouth would get him in trouble one day and she hadn't been wrong. He narrowed his eyes at Ginny. No, Wanda had definitely not been wrong and barely a second later, he was standing in Ginny's path, determined not to let her walk any further. He refused to let her leave without him explaining himself to her and her explaining herself to him. He had tried too hard to get to know her for it to all just disappear now.

"What the hell is your problem?" Ginny exploded, trying and failing to get past Pietro. "I know that we haven't seen each other in over a bloody month and I know that we were never really friends, but could you at least pretend to be somewhat supportive for me?" she spat and to Pietro's horror, he saw the formation of tears in her eyes. Great. Now Ginny, the one woman who was known for her iciness, was crying. Because of something that he had said. "This is the first opportunity that I've had in ages to do something that actually mattered again and I know that I may not be the best or the smartest, but did you have to say it like I was a child needing to be coddled?" she continued, her pitch raising with every word.

"I-"

"Oh, but of course you had to, you bloody ass! You just think that you can bloody well get away with anything and everything because your name is Pietro bloody Maximoff! Well, guess what, you can't do that with me!" she hissed, shoving her finger into the middle of Pietro's chest. "I refuse to be mocked and I refuse to be made fun of simply because you don't understand."

"But I do understand," he said quietly.

"Understand?" She laughed bitterly. "No, you could never understand and you never will." She sniffed and wiped haphazardly at her cheek. "Get out of my way. I have to go and train, although according to you, I'm too idiotic, too stupid to even do something as simple as that."

Pietro stepped towards her, his fingers stretching out towards her arm, but she had blocked him before he could even touch her.

"Don't you dare," she said lowly, tears now trickling freely down her face. "Don't you dare. Just–just leave me alone."

Pietro lowered his hand slowly, but he wasn't going to leave. Not until this was straightened out and he clenched his jaw.

"Ginny – you know that I didn't mean it like that."

"Sure. And how did you mean it?"

Pietro ran a hand through his silver hair in frustration. "I was… I was worried for you."

Ginny snickered derisively, her eyes shining dimly. "You don't even know me. How can you be worried for me? Hell, I'm not even important. Why the hell do you think that I'm being sent? I'm expendable."

"No," Pietro shook his head fiercely, "you aren't. You're good. That's why they're sending you. I don't want you to go, because," he took a deep breath, his tongue stumbling over the English words in his haste, "I don't think that you're ready. What? Do you think that I want you to get hurt? Do you? Because I don't. Do you know what it was like, all of those weeks ago, to see you lying in that hospital bed? You looked like death. Like death, Ginny! And I vowed to myself that I would never allow that to happen again. Not if it was in my power to control it."

Ginny was silent and Pietro fidgeted with his fingers as she gave him an incredulous stare. "Are you serious?" she said. "I don't need your protection. I've been looking out for myself for a while now and I'm a big girl. I deal with shit in my own way; that kind of stuff doesn't fall on your shoulders. Not to mention, I haven't done anything to deserve that – your respect I mean."

"You've done more than you could ever know," he said seriously, taking another cautious step towards her, encouraged when she didn't take a step backwards. "You befriended Wanda. You listened to her, took it upon yourself to help her when I was too stupid, too blind to see it. You told me off, you ignored me, you let me find my own way and you, even though you probably didn't recognise it," he said, a small hint of his familiar smirk sitting on his lips, "helped me more than any psychologist at this facility ever could. You… you treated me like a human being, not an Avenger. To you, I was just another person and God," he shook his head, "I needed that. I still need that. Look," he said, "I'm… sorry," the words were heavy and foreign on his tongue, "for what I said. It-it wasn't fair of me to do that. And I know that I haven't seen you or talked to you since you entered the program, but… I thought that we became friends. We were getting along."

Ginny gave him a watery smile. "I'm sorry too. For overreacting and acting like a spoilt brat. I'm just… stressed and trust me when I say that I have no idea why they chose me either." She paused awkwardly, the remnants of tears lingering on her cheeks and Pietro wanted nothing more than to wipe them away. "Um… I'll see you later then."

He nodded. "I'll see you later."

It wasn't until Ginny turned away that he allowed the smile to bloom on his face.

* * *

Wanda crept through the darkened facility, her steps light as she finally reached the gym. She opened the door cautiously, her gaze flicking over the large room, checking to make sure that there really was no one in there and gestured to a bemused Ginny to follow her. It had been at dinner that she had run into the normally scarce redhead again and slipped her the message about tonight.

"So, you really found a way to switch off the cameras?" Ginny asked sceptically as Wanda closed the door firmly behind herself, nodding in answer to Ginny's question.

"Yes, I found a way to block the signal."

"But won't they already know that we're in here?"

Wanda smirked. "Signal's already blocked," she said proudly, "and it has been for the last three minutes. They won't have seen us enter the gym."

"Won't they manage to get it back though?"

Wanda rolled her eyes as they walked towards the back. "Yes, but we still have 54 seconds until they do, which leaves us plenty of time to get into the simulation room."

Throughout the entire week, Wanda had been asking subtle questions about the video surveillance that ran in the simulation room and other areas of the facility – such as the gym – in order to try and lock it down. She had managed to discover, much to her satisfaction, that the simulation room didn't actually have round the clock surveillance. Instead, it only had a camera that recorded specific sessions and it was something that could be easily turned off with the flick of a switch. The 24 hour surveillance, however, had been an entirely different problem and in the end, she had resorted to using her own powers to distort the signal so that they could reach the gym without anyone poking around or asking them nosy questions.

It had gone better than she had expected, she thought in approval as the pair entered the control room.

"Okay," Ginny said slowly, "so what's this all about?"

"Magic," Wanda replied simply, her excitement building with every word. She had discovered the art of magical defence only a few days ago in her latest book and had immediately decided that she wanted to see it. That she _had_ to see it. "Your magic. I want to see it. I want to see how you fight and you get to train at the same time."

Understanding dawned in Ginny's eyes. "You reached the history about the early stages of the war, didn't you?" And her eyes flickered nervously into the panelled room that lay just behind the glass. "Are you sure that there are no cameras here?"

Wanda held her breath. "So, you'll do it?"

Ginny nodded somewhat reluctantly. "I'll do it. But I might not be very good at it. I haven't done this type of magic in a long time."

Wanda didn't care.

"Great," she said gleefully, almost skipping over to the glass screen. She switched it on in anticipation, tapping past the welcome message in slight irritation. "You can practice under my account."

She dug out one of the wristbands as she waited for the program to load and handed it over to Ginny, who was now standing almost awkwardly in her standard black recruit training clothes in the middle of the room.

"So, how does this thing work exactly?"

"Well," Wanda pondered the question, "first, you select a difficulty and because the program is constantly evolving to your weaknesses and strengths, you don't know what it's going to give you until you enter the room."

"It could be anything, then?"

Wanda nodded. "Yes."

Ginny looked uncertain, her free hand fiddling with the band that was now hugging her wrist. She looked strangely nervous and hesitant and it wasn't a look that Wanda was used to seeing on the normally feisty redhead. "I only want an easy one."

"I'll give you an easy one," Wanda promised.

"And have the cameras been turned off?"

Wanda hit something on the screen. "They have been now. There's no way that anyone could find out anything about this."

An expression of relief passed over Ginny's face. "Okay then. So, do I just walk inside the room?"

"Yes. The door will lock automatically behind you."

"And… does it feel real? When you're in there? What if you got shot? Would you feel it?"

Wanda hesitated briefly. "It's… like reality in there. I don't know how Stark did it, but if you get shot, then the pain feels real even though nothing's really hit you. It's a strange feeling. If you get shot too many times or if you 'die', then the simulation will shut down."

"Sounds fair," Ginny muttered and she started walking towards the door. Wanda almost missed the object in that was now in Ginny's hand and she stood up abruptly.

"Wait," she breathed, "is that…?"

Ginny looked startled and looked down the slim, elongated baton that was resting in her hand. "You mean this?"

Wanda looked at her impatiently and Ginny simply grinned.

"This is my wand. It's yew, 12½ inches with a dragon heartstring core. It's saved my life more times than I care to admit."

"You know," Wanda murmured, her eyes shining, "I saw pictures in the books that you gave me, but I didn't expect it to look like that."

Ginny wavered. "You want to hold it?"

Wanda's head snapped up. "Would I be able to?"

"Sure," the redhead shrugged. "I don't see any harm in it." And she tossed the wand to Wanda who caught it lithely in her grasp, her fingers running over the intricate patterns that laced their way up the sides of Ginny's wand. It was more elegant than Wanda had imagined.

"Do you feel anything? When you pick it up, I mean," she asked absently.

Ginny shrugged. "It depends on the situation. For simple spells, it's simply a warm feeling, but when I'm in danger, I can feel the power in my wand… connect with me somehow. It's like it and myself become a single entity. It's an incredible feeling. Why? Do you feel something?"

Wanda shook her head slowly, feeling almost irrationally disappointed at Ginny's question. "No. I don't feel anything," and she wistfully handed the wand back to her friend.

She wished that she were a part of that world, the world that had tales of goblins, and giants, and mer-people. The world that had its own society buried underneath the human one and the one where magic was so ingrained within their culture that it was so familiar that it was like breathing. It was astounding, Wanda realized, that they had managed to hide it so well and she felt incredibly privileged that it had been she, out of millions of other people on the planet, that had been let in on Ginny's shattering secret.

Wanda shook off the pensiveness with a shake of her head, firmly telling herself to not think about it again. She wasn't one of them, as much as she wished that she was and no amount of wishing was going to change that. "So, are you ready?"

Ginny glanced at her shrewdly, but nodded in response to Wanda's question. "I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

* * *

Ginny grasped her wand like it was a lifeline as the silver panels twisted and morphed in front of her eyes. Barely a second later, she was standing in a maze of corridors, sirens and gunshots screaming around her as shadowy people dashed to and fro, shouting directions and commands. Above her, a red light pulsed rhythmically. It took a second for her to blink off the memories that threatened to overwhelm her before her vision sharpened and she forced herself to assess the situation that she had been placed in. Taking controlled breaths, she sank into a crouch, her wand heavy in her hand.

"Maximoff!"

Ginny glanced around herself blindly before looking up into the eyes of an unknown agent. Maximoff? Why had he called her Maximoff? She wasn't… Wanda. Of course. She was operating under the brunette's account.

"Maximoff! We need you on the second floor! Get a move on!"

The voice cut through her distracted thoughts and Ginny scrambled to her feet, the agent pulling her up and dragging over the still bodies that lay at odd angles in the middle of the hallway. She held her breath and turned her gaze away as she ran, following the agent. It's only an illusion, she told herself. It's only an illusion.

The pair of them ran haphazardly around a corner and she stumbled over something on the floor, her partner pulling her up again.

"What's the situation?" she demanded.

"They're nearly at the control room," the agent said grimly and Ginny nodded, sprinting up the stairs that had appeared in the corner of her vision, skipping and faltering over the steps.

She reached the top before she was bashed back down, her ankle twisting brutally from underneath her as she fell to her knees from the hit that the stranger had given her.

"Thought that you could take us, huh, Maximoff?" a dark haired woman jeered from above her. "Well-"

She never got to finish her sentence before an explosion of red knocked her back, the woman's head smashing brutally against the wall before she slid into a heap on the ground.

"What was that, bitch?" Ginny smirked despite herself and she groaned quietly as she got to her feet, placing her weight on her left foot as her other screamed in silent protest. That was just bloody fantastic. A sprained ankle was exactly what she needed right now.

"Maximoff? You good?"

Ginny grimaced and nodded as she hopped back up the remaining steps and onto the chaotic second floor.

"Which way's the control room?"

"After we turn this corner," the agent told her grimly, "it's down this corridor and to the left. Think you can make it? Because they're going to hit us as soon as we come around."

"Absolutely," Ginny muttered. "Let's give 'em hell."

The next few moments passed in a rush of adrenaline and vivid flashes of light, as Ginny cut a path through the hostiles, her wand slashing and slicing mercilessly as a number of curses and hexes flew from her lips. The air crackled with power and electricity and Ginny felt the hairs on her arms raise uncomfortably. It was like she had never left, she realized dimly, darting over the mass of unconscious bodies that she had left in her wake.

And Merlin it felt good.

She turned to the left and saw a group of the mercenaries crowded around a door that she assumed to be the entrance to the control room. A large, modern battering ram was perched in front of the reinforced metal and she winced as it slammed ruthlessly into it, the grating clang echoing down the corridor.

"Reducto!" she screamed before they had a chance to reset the ugly weapon and blue light filled the corridor as the energy soared pitilessly towards the cannon. The mercenaries around the door barely had time to look up at the unexpected shout before her curse collided with the metal and it exploded into ash and stone, pieces flying haphazardly through the air. The soldiers were shoved backwards with the force of her spell and they hit the ground inelegantly, clambering back to their feet as soon as they got the chance, anger and rage lighting up their faces. They reached for the guns, the muted steel glinting ferociously under the red lighting and raised them, fingers reaching for the trigger.

But Ginny was quicker and the men collapsed into oblivion, their firearms clattering uselessly to the floor. It was with surprise that she blinked as the simulation faded as silvery panels replaced the dark corridors and the wailing of the sirens changed to silence. The change was so abrupt that Ginny had to get her bearings and remind herself that what had just experienced was nothing more than a series of images.

How the hell had Tony Stark managed to create something like that? Something that realistic and lifelike? How was something like that even possible?

Ginny didn't know. She really had no idea and it was with an impressed wonder that she limped back to the now unlocked door.

* * *

 **Hey guys! So, this is fresh off the press, so you'll have to forgive me if you find any errors in today's update. To be honest, I'm not super happy with this, but I hope that you all liked it anyway.**

 **Thanks for all of the new follows, favourites, and reviews! You're all awesome!**  
 **To Guest: Well, I'm sorry that you think that it's boring, but character development is necessary and without some of that boring stuff, then we'd never get any time to breathe! Things are going to be heating up soon, though, so never fear! Thanks for your review anyway!**

 **To Anonymous: I'm really glad that you're liking the story so far and that you like the character development. I've really tried for that to happen and because I write a chapter per week, it's sometimes very difficult to see if she's developed, so I'm glad that you think so. Thanks for the luck! My exams are only a week away and I'm already dreading them.**

 **To Hmm: Well, I'm glad that you think that the story is finally going somewhere despite the unnecessary angst and conflict. However, seeing as this is a fanfic, those things are to be expected. I will, however, in future stories definitely keep an eye out for that kind of stuff . This is the longest story I've ever written and it's extremely easy for me to focus on the stuff that is easy for me to write, like those angst scenes, rather than progressing forwards. Anyway, I'm glad that you decided to keep reading and I will definitely remember your advice for any future works!**

 **To Lola: I'm glad that you're enjoying the story and I hope that you continue to do so in the following chapters!**

 **Oh my God, people, my finals are only a week away! I have study leave this week, which leaves me with several hours of studying a day and also writing. So yay!**

 **In other news, I am pottering away on another story that will be posted after I see Civil War this week. For more info, see my profile.**

 **I hope that you all have a great week!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	20. Chapter 20

"I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me."

 _Joshua Graham_

* * *

"There's been reported HYDRA activity in this area," Steve highlighted the area on the screen, "this area, and this area. But we're only going to be focusing here." He zoomed in on a large abandoned house surrounded by nothing but long grass and Wanda leaned forward in curiosity. Since she had discovered that they would be attacking a HYDRA base, she had been wondering about what it was going to look like and she supposed that she wasn't all that surprised with the image. If there was one thing that she had learned about HYDRA, it was that they were never fearless enough to take a place somewhere in a populated area. It was hilariously ironic, especially seeing as they believed that they were the biggest, most accomplished organisation out there. And yet there they were, hiding out in an 'abandoned house' in the middle of nowhere. "This is one of the bigger bases that we've come across," Steve continued, "so it's not going to be easy, but if we do it like we've practiced, then we shouldn't stray too far from the plan when everything goes down in a few days time. Pietro, Wanda and Clint. You three will be a team and will target infiltration. Sam, Nat, you're going to be with me and Rhodey and Stark will together." Steve looked up from his notes. "This is also the way that we're going to be training for the next few days. Is that clear?"

He gazed around the room, searching for any signs of confusion or misunderstanding, but found none and he nodded in satisfaction. "Good," he said, before turning his attention to the five recruits that were sitting silently at the end of the table. "Right. I want you five as back up. You do what we tell you to do and nothing else. You will be collecting information, downloading and grabbing anything that could be potentially useful."

The five of them nodded.

"There will be a team practice taking place in three days of which you are all expected to attend. The simulation room will be especially programmed to the structural plans of the base and will be good practice run for all of us, so make sure that you're ready. There's no place for faltering at this stage."

They nodded again and Wanda dared a small glance at Ginny. The redhead's hair was in a tight braid and she was dressed in the standard black gear that all of the recruits had been given at the beginning of the program. Her face, however, was carefully blank and Wanda mentally commended her. None of the Avengers – except for Tony, who kept shooting the witch calculating glares – had made it at all obvious that they knew her previously and Ginny hadn't done anything to exaggerate the fact either.

The other exception, Wanda supposed, was Pietro who kept staring at Ginny with an odd expression on his face. She wondered if it had something to do with what had happened yesterday after lunch. Wanda had badgered him for details for ages afterwards, but strangely enough, her brother hadn't said anything. She had almost been tempted to look inside of his mind, before deciding that she would find out soon enough. It must have gone well, though, judging by the wistful depth of the stares that her brother kept giving Ginny and Wanda smirked to herself.

She wondered if any of the other Avengers had noticed Pietro's distracted expression and lingering stares before deciding that it was too obvious not for it to be observed. Pietro had always been like that though. Ever since he had been a boy.

Wanda couldn't quite recall when it had all begun, but it had definitely been when he was at least twelve. They had been walking back to their distant aunt's home that they had been staying in, when she had heard the girls giggling. She had turned her head up curiously, glaring at the girls who had been standing on the edge of the rocky street.

"Hey Pietro!" one of them had called out, flushing a deep red as her friends laughed at her. Wanda had wondered why they had called Pietro's name and she remembered glancing at Pietro questioningly before he too had simply shrugged at her and smiled a small, hesitant smile at the girl.

It had only gotten worse from that moment, Wanda realized, as the shy smiles turned into flirtatious smirks. Pietro wore his heart on his sleeve and the girls, for some reason, had always been drawn to that. It was interesting to see that the position was now reversed, she considered. Pietro wasn't used to being refused or ignored and Wanda happened to know that Ginny was very good in both of those departments.

"Well, in that case, I'll see you all in the simulation room at 9am sharp in three days. If there are any problems before this date, then please come and see me. Dismissed."

Wanda got woodenly up from her chair and stretched lightly, her previous thoughts scattered as she watched Ginny exit with the other recruits before heading out the same door. She was glad that the redhead was going on the mission, even more so after what she had seen last night. Ginny was formidable, powerful, and experienced in ways that Wanda knew that she would never be able to understand and the idea that there was someone like that going on the mission, allowed Wanda to feel more relaxed.

But it also made her feel more nervous as well. Everything that Wanda had read about magic hadn't prepared her for the display that she had seen last night and she had a feeling that that hadn't even been a quarter of what Ginny was truly capable of doing.

"Miss Maximoff. Miss Maximoff?"

The brunette jumped, her cheeks flushing slightly as she stared at Vision. She cleared her throat. "Sorry," she muttered, brushing a strand of her hair back behind her ear. "I was thinking about something else. What did you say?"

"I was asking whether or not you wished to train later today?" he asked, shooting her an unreadable glance that Wanda couldn't be bothered to decipher. Her mind, ever since she had seen the display last night, had been stuck between awe, disbelief, and jealousy – an emotion that she wasn't at all proud of feeling.

In the simulation room, the redheaded witch had been unstoppable, a force of elegant, controlled power. Wanda had felt it raise the hairs on her arms and had basked in the electric atmosphere that it provided. When Ginny spun, her wand had blurred in her sharp, efficient movements. When Ginny whispered, her words had lit a hidden fire. The spell hadn't even ended when she had limped out of the room and healed her own injury with a flick of her wand and a small smile. It was the reason why Wanda felt more comfortable with Ginny going on the mission and yet… Wanda twisted her hands in anxiety. Ginny's magic wasn't even destructive – not like hers was. All Wanda could do was break things, leaving them in shattered piles on the floor, unable to be fixed, repaired. It had nearly happened with Pietro. She had nearly left him, had nearly broken her promise to him and sometimes, it was only the knowledge that he had survived Sokovia that allowed Wanda to deal with her own self hatred. She sighed inaudibly to herself, the sound wistful. She wished that she could feel the same confidence about her powers, wished that she could control hers as well as Ginny could. She wished that hers were a gift instead of…

Instead of a burden.

Wanda hadn't told anyone that she felt that way. It was the reason why she was so enamoured with Ginny's world. It was a place where she could belong. It was a place that could accommodate her, even help her. Here, in this mundane reality, there was no one that understood the unpredictability, the frustration and the fear that came with wielding a power that was so much greater than she could even begin to comprehend.

"I know that you have been working on levitating yourself," Vision tried again, "and that you are struggling with it."

She nodded vaguely at the android. "Okay," she found herself saying quietly before she had even fully registered what Vision had asked her. It was only a second later that she realized the gravity as to what she had just agreed to and she cursed herself mentally for not paying attention. Working to control her powers was definitely something that she should be doing, but it wasn't what she wanted to be doing.

"Miss Maximoff?" Vision sounded oddly hesitant this time and Wanda gave him her full attention for the first time since they had left the debriefing.

"Yes?"

"I am… I am concerned about you."

Wanda stared at him quizzically, suspiciously. Concern from others was not something that she easily welcomed. "Concerned? Why?"

"You are," Vision seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say, "not yourself. Are you happy here?"

Wanda groaned and looked away from him. "You sound like Steve," she accused. "I'm fine. I just… I just want my space. If I have a problem, then I will talk."

Vision went quiet and Wanda felt a tiny knife of guilt prick her in the side. She hadn't meant to offend him. Vision, ever since she had been here, had been nothing but kind to her. He had talked to her, supported her when Pietro had been in the hospital after his brush with death, had saved her life in Sokovia, helped her in her training. The list went on and Wanda wondered how much she truly owed the android that was walking besides her.

Wanda didn't like owing anybody, but it seemed, she thought wryly, that she owed Vision a great deal more than she originally thought.

"Sorry," she muttered.

Vision tilted his head, his blue eyes impenetrable. "It is quite all right, Miss Maximoff."

But Wanda sighed and stopped walking in the middle of the corridor. "No, I shouldn't have said that. You've been nothing but good to me ever since I came to this place. You don't deserve my disregard. It's just that… I've been distracted recently. I found out about something and it makes me wish for something that I could never have."

"And what's that?" Vision's voice was oddly soft in the still hallway and Wanda started walking again, turning her head away so that he wouldn't see the bitterness that filled her gaze.

"A home, Vision. I wish that I had a home."

* * *

"And how's it gone so far?" Natasha asked Sharon, her arms folded across her chest.

Sharon simply shrugged lightly and tied her hair back. "She's a fast learner. Sure, there are things that need work, but she's capable of doing this."

Natasha didn't say anything as she rolled her shoulders, feeling the muscles stretch and pull at the movement. Warming up had always been on of her favourite things to do. It had, since she had been a little girl, allowed her that brief moment to relax and to gather her thoughts before the fight started. More than once, those tiny seconds of rest had saved her life, the few extra seconds going a long way. Clint had always thought that it was weird, because in his opinion, the adrenaline, the control, the justice that came with a good punch overshadowed everything else.

But Natasha had learned to appreciate the small moments.

"So," she said slowly, "take me through your plan."

Sharon raised an eyebrow at her and she thought that she saw an insulted expression flick across the blonde's face, but Natasha decided to blatantly ignore it. If Sharon wanted to bring an inexperienced agent like Ginny Prewett along, then fine. But she had the right to know what happened in their training sessions.

"Warm-up is first," Sharon said, her voice neutral as she stretched her calf muscles. "Then we go through a couple of combinations and do some hand-to-hand and then it's weapons training."

Natasha nodded. "Okay. And is that it?"

"Are you looking for something else?" Sharon replied sharply.

"I was just asking," Natasha muttered as they moved into the centre of the gym. She had never really entered this gym too much before, but now she was here, she was seriously considering it to become her new training area. In the others, there were always distractions. Talking, laughing, staring… But here it was blissfully silent. Something else that distinguished her from Clint, she mused to herself as she recalled how the archer preferred there to be constant noise surrounding his person. Natasha privately thought that it was because he liked to be connected to the sound of others, constantly keeping in touch with the thing that he had lost so many years ago.

The door to the gym opened with a loud bang and Natasha's thoughts scattered as she and Sharon looked up to see Ginny Prewett enter the gym. Natasha opened her mouth to rebuke the girl – being late, regardless whether or not it was her student, wasn't something that she appreciated – but she hesitated, her eyes narrowing as she took in the appearance of the agitated girl. At the debriefing earlier, she had looked professional, serious, but then and again, she had always been that way, even when she had been their secretary. In fact, it was something that Natasha had always appreciated, respected even and she found herself sometimes missing the redhead's professional attitude, especially when she compared her to the almost ditzy brunette that they currently had.

Now, however, Prewett looked far from professional. Her hair was in disarray, strands loose and wild and her normally pale cheeks were a vivid red, her eyes bright in the dim lighting of the gym. Bright red patches on her otherwise bare arms suggested the appearance of bruises that had yet to form and Natasha sighed to herself as she found herself realising exactly what it was that had happened.

She supposed that she shouldn't have been all that surprised.

"Sorry I'm late," Prewett said, her voice clipped as she dropped her bag on the ground. "I ran into someone on the way here."

Sharon exchanged a meaningful glance with Natasha. It was more than clear that Prewett wasn't going to elaborate. "It's fine. You're here now. You ready?"

"Absolutely," she said, turning around.

It was almost comical, the way that Prewett's eyes widened when she realized that she wasn't going to be training alone with Carter today, and Natasha found herself smirking slightly as she waited for Prewett to regain her composure.

"Agent Romanoff," she said, her tone light despite the flash of suspicion that flickered through her eyes. "I didn't know that you would be here today."

"Yeah well, I wanted to see how everything was going. I hope you don't mind."

Prewett didn't even falter in her reply and Natasha grudgingly felt a small spark of respect. The girl had guts. "Not at all."

Over the course of the next two hours, Natasha watched and occasionally participated as Prewett went through a variety of different warm-ups and manoeuvres with Sharon. She wasn't bad, but she definitely had a long way to go. What mattered though, she supposed, was that what she had seen so far, was more than enough to get her through some minimal scuffles with some low key HYDRA agents. She also, much to her surprise, found herself agreeing with Sharon's assessment of the girl.

Prewett, in many ways, really did need this. It showed in her punches, in the grim determination of her face, the flashes in her eyes. She needed to be shown that she was capable of something. Almost at every corner, Natasha reflected with a hint of guilt, the young woman had been shut down. First, it had been through her job, with someone always second-guessing her, underestimating her; Natasha hadn't been oblivious to the scorn and disdain that Ginny had been shown while setting them up for interviews and taking care of their paperwork. Then, it had been through her selective reveal of her past history, which had simply instigated more shows of mistrust. And now, her very position as an agent within S.H.I.E.L.D. was being undermined, not only by the more senior agents, but also by her teammates, teammates that were supposed to have her back.

Ginny Prewett was all alone, Natasha realized with a start as she watched the girl duck one of Sharon's elegant kicks. She had given up her life – whatever life it had been in England – and had come to America, searching for something that she wasn't quite sure that the redhead had been successful in finding. She hadn't had any obvious help, no person to talk to, no friends to lean on. No, it was all too clear she had fought her way up to the top and she was still fighting, now literally as well as metaphorically. Natasha felt her brows crease. She, in many ways, had probably had it tougher than the many agents that were now at the base and if you calculated the secret war into it…

"Good, Ginny," Sharon's call echoed through the gym and Natasha glanced up, her train of thought broken, as she surveyed Sharon helping the younger agent up from the mat. "You still ended up on the floor, but did you see what you did there? Your movement was controlled and well executed. Now if you did that all the time, you would be a formidable opponent."

Prewett nodded, breathing hard as she got to her feet, a small smile at the edges of her lips.

It was one of the first times that Natasha could recall the girl looking genuinely happy.

When they stopped for lunch, she found herself jogging after Prewett and ignoring the knowing smirk that Sharon was giving her. The blonde would give her an earful later. Of that, she was quite sure.

"Oi, Prewett," she called, the demand stopping Prewett in her tracks as she turned around and waited expectantly.

"Agent Romanoff," she said, her expression perfectly blank. "Is there something that you need?"

Natasha was silent for a moment before gesturing the ugly bruises that were now covered by her regulation hoody. "Care to elaborate?"

She tilted her head. "Not really."

"So, who was it? My money's on Reiter."

"It doesn't matter anyway."

"Well," Natasha said sharply, "it should. These are the people that are going to be having your back in a few days and if you can't trust them and if they can't trust you, then we're all going to have a problem."

"You blaming me?" Her question was hard and straight to the point.

"I'm trying to help you," Natasha corrected. "So, who was it? Reiter? Who was he with?"

Prewett snorted. "It doesn't matter," she repeated again. "And why the sudden concern, _Agent_ Romanoff? It's not like you showed any interest before. So, I appreciate the concern, but it's nothing. I'll see you later this afternoon."

* * *

Ginny was so close. She was so close to breaking and smashing into smithereens. She had thought that she would have been able to handle it, handle the insults from instructors and classmates alike, the rude calls, and the burning glares. After all, what was bullying after going up against Bellatrix Lestrange and surviving? What were the harm of a few words after enduring the Carrows brainless abuse? What was an unfair fight after suffering the excruciating effects of the Cruciatus Curse?

Ginny hadn't told anyone about what the others said to her, did to her when her mentors turned a blind eye. She hadn't even told Edwards; they didn't bother her when she was with him. A part of her wondered whether or not the recruits were always like this, if there was always someone that they liked to 'pick' on. She supposed that there often were. Because what else could you expect when you put a group of dangerous people in a room together?

She just wished that it hadn't been her who had been selected for their petty games.

She lifted her head as she entered the cafeteria, glaring at the small group of recruits that sat huddled together at the end of one of the tables. Reiter, she noticed, looked vaguely guilty, but Satsii simply smirked at her, his eyes promising further torment. Ginny decidedly ignored him. She could take it. Rhang, on the other hand, looked thoroughly unperturbed by the tension that had risen between them and Edwards waved, as blissfully ignorant as ever. She found herself smiling back at him. The only high point of her entering the bloody training program had been her friendship with Nelsen Edwards and her continued contact with Wanda. Edwards had grounded her, and unbeknownst to him, had protected her from the worst of the childish bickering. He was a friend that Ginny never wanted to lose.

She walked into the lunch line and collected a tray, looking over the choices that they had on offer. Lasagne. Quiche (Vegetarian). Sandwiches. Salad. Ginny decided to go for the sandwiches and she picked up several of them as she walked by. She hadn't had sandwiches in a while.

"Sandwiches, huh?"

Ginny breathed in sharply and spun around, already glaring at Pietro, who looked more than amused with the level of her reaction.

"What?" he protested and Ginny rolled her eyes as she turned back around, digging her S.H.I.E.L.D. issued lunch card out of one of her pockets. "So how's training?"

She shrugged lightly, shuffling forward in the line as Pietro grabbed a large plate of lasagne from behind her. "It's fine."

"And aren't you warm in that… hoody? Is that what you call it? It is summer, after all."

"Yeah, well I'm cold," she snapped.

"Geez," he muttered, "I was just asking."

He wasn't wrong though. Under the fleece of the jumper, Ginny was sweltering. She could feel the sweat sliding down her skin uncomfortably and the fabric of her light t-shirt was sticking uncomfortably to her flesh. But she didn't want questions to be asked, so she left it on. Although, she mused, she supposed that she would be able to get away with it anyway. She was a recruit after all.

"So, are you coming to sit with Wanda and me?" Pietro grinned at her, adding a dramatic flourish to his words. "Or are you going to leave us all alone."

Ginny sighed, wondering if she was going to regret this before firmly deciding that she needed to be distracted. "I'll come and sit with you."

Finally at the front of the queue, she placed her card against the scanner and waited almost impatiently for the light to flash green. A second later, it did so and Ginny made a beeline for Wanda, hoping to speak to her in private before her nosy, incorrigible brother arrived.

"Wanda," she said, sliding cautiously into the seat next to the brunette who was picking at her salad. "How are you? Um," she hesitated, "we didn't really get to talk all that much last night, so I was wondering-"

"I am busy," Wanda said quietly, seemingly staring at something that Ginny couldn't see. "Perhaps another time? I just… I just want to come to terms with it."

Ginny nodded slowly, not quite sure how to respond. Last night, she had been so excited to see what Ginny could do, see the capabilities of her magic and the breadth of her powers, but now Wanda seemed almost deflated. She seemed wan and tired and Ginny felt her eyes narrow suspiciously.

"What's going on?"

"I-Nothing. I just need some time."

But Ginny was already shaking her head. "I don't believe that. Something's changed."

"I just-"

The sound of a tray slapping on the table made both of the girls look up, as Pietro sat down in his seat and Ginny rolled her eyes to Heaven. Absolutely no tact. None whatsoever.

"What's going on?" he asked, spooning a large forkful of the lasagne into his mouth before he'd even properly sat down.

"Nothing," Wanda muttered tightly. "I'm just not hungry. I'll see you two later." And she got up from the table, taking her mostly uneaten salad with her. Ginny's eyes lingered on her figure as she exited the cafeteria, wondering what it was that had her so wound up. Maybe she had overdone it last night after all.

"What did you do?"

Ginny started unwrapping one of her sandwiches and frowned. "Who said that I did anything?"

"Well, she wasn't like that before you arrived and now she is unhappy. What did you say?"

"You don't need to worry about it," Ginny insisted. "But speaking of things that you do need to worry about, how was that press conference? I heard some people mentioning it earlier? It's apparently a big deal."

Ginny didn't know why she was talking to him. He was rude, loud, and extremely obnoxious, but after what happened yesterday, well, she felt more comfortable around him. Maybe it was because he had seen her cry.

Yes. Maybe it was that.

She rolled up her sleeves absently, grateful for the air that tickled the skin of her arms, and bit into her cheese sandwich. It really was a warm day today. It was quite nice actually, she mused. The facility, when the sun shone, actually looked like a welcoming place instead of the disguised cage that it really was. She remembered the day that she had first seen it. It had still been in the construction stages and it had been raining. Everything had been covered with a thin layer of mud and grime and not even the surrounding forest had been able to eradicate the ugliness of the scaffolding that had surrounded the compound.

To say that it looked very different now was a complete understatement and Ginny found herself glad of the fact.

"Hmm?" She had missed what Pietro had said.

"Your arms."

It took her a second before she realised what her was talking about. _Shit_. Ginny wrenched the sleeves of her hoody back down, covering the finger shaped bruises, but it was too late. The damage had already been done.

"What happened?" His voice was quiet and serious and Ginny almost shifted uncomfortably at the sound of it.

"Training happened," she replied shortly, staring at the wholemeal bread. "It's a perfectly normal occurrence, thank you very much. They don't even hurt."

Pietro opened his mouth to protest, but someone else – very welcomely – interrupted and Ginny found herself sighing in relief as she realised that she wouldn't have to explain herself.

Yet.

"Hey Prewett, can I talk to you?"

Ginny allowed her eyes to widen ever so slightly in surprise as Claire Rhang weaved her way through the tables and towards her. She stood up deliberately, decidedly ignoring Pietro's accusing scrutiny. What did Rhang want? She normally stayed out of the petty schemes of the other recruits, but maybe this time she had made an exception and so it was with slight trepidation that Ginny looked at the approaching agent.

"Alone?" Rhang accentuated, jerking her head towards Pietro who looked decidedly affronted. Ginny nodded and followed her out of the cafeteria, not daring to glance backwards; she could feel Pietro's stare burning holes in her back.

"You know, I thought that, out of all of us, you were the weak, idiotic one," Rhang started as they entered one of the less crowded corridors. "Thinking back on it, it's a fair assumption to make. You put the work in and you get results, even when the rest of us can't be bothered. You're determined, like you actually want this, like you actually want this profession. I hate people like that… People who legitimately want to go into this job… Don't they see the destruction that it wields? The pain? The death?" She shook her head in disgust. "And, because of that, I saw you as weak and stupid, choosing something – a world – that you didn't understand. However," she took a deep breath, her dark eyes meeting Ginny's as they came to a stop, "after seeing you the other night and after this morning, it would seem that I was wrong." She snorted. "I think that you're more knowledgeable about what's out there than more than three quarters of all of the other dumbasses in this cohort. And might I also just say that you did well. Fooling everyone, I mean. Half of the people in this shithole, I'm not so surprised, but me? There are not a lot of people that can fool me."

Ginny arched an eyebrow at her blunt honesty. It would have been an arrogant comment had it not been the complete and utter truth.

"And they'll stop. Eventually. Although if you want me to force the process, then all you have to do is say the word, because trust me, I know exactly how you feel."

Ginny was momentarily speechless. Since when had this happened? Since when had she gained an ally in the elusive, ruthless South Korean agent? Ginny didn't know, but she was glad for whatever had caused it.

"Well, um, thanks, I guess? But I don't need your help. I'm dealing with it and I need to deal with it on my own."

"You sure?" Rhang indicated her arms. "Because if it gets worse than that, then you have a problem. Or is it already worse than that?"

"It's nothing worse than this."

Rhang nodded once, her dark eyes piercing. "Good. And I get it. I really do. I was exactly the same, or rather, I was exactly the same before I nearly ended up being paralysed at the age of fourteen through a 'joke' that the others thought was funny. So, if it gets worse," she said, "tell me and I'll help you deal with it. Catch you later, Prewett."

It took Ginny more than a few seconds to collect herself after Rhang's startling appearance, still not understanding why the deceptively young agent was looking out for her. She started making her way back to the cafeteria, her thoughts whirling. It didn't make sense.

It didn't make any sense at all.

* * *

 **Hey guys! So, this is my last update for the next two weeks thanks to the horror of my final exams. As such, my next update will be on the 22nd of May and on that day, I shall be a completely free woman! It shall be awesome. And there shall be lots of updates because I will have way too much time on my hands. So, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. The ending felt rushed to me and maybe it does to you, but I'm too tired to fix it right now.**

 **Thanks to all of the favourites and follows and lovely reviews! You're all super awesome (and so are all of my super cool silent readers out there).**  
 **To Katrina: Thanks for your support and your luck!**

 **To Guest: Thanks for your review! And don't worry. There are going to be a couple of scenes in the next chapter and the one where there is going to be a serious amount of action. I can't wait to start writing it!**

 **To Guest: Thanks for your support and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **To Guest: Thank you for your continued support! To be honest, I'm surprised that there were so few errors. Normally my stuff is littered with small ones, even more so when I'm tired!**

 **To Kayla: Thanks for your review and I hope that you liked today's chapter!**

 **I hope that you all have a great few weeks and I shall see you all on the other side! Also, if you have exams in these coming weeks, then I wish you all the best!**

 **HauntedCinders**

 **P.S. You should all go see Civil War. It's a good film. There were a some bits which I thought were a bit 'meh', but generally it was everything that a Captain America film should be. I have to say, though, that I am quite suddenly a serious supporter of the ScarletVision ship and have been plagued by ideas for one-shots.**  
 **See you all later!**


	21. Chapter 21

Nothing is permanent in this world, not even our troubles.

 _Charlie Chaplin_

* * *

It was three days later that Ginny stood outside the training room, breathing hard and wiping the sweat from her brow. The simulation had been tougher than she had anticipated, but she – she still didn't quite know how – had managed to do what was required of her. She simply hoped that it was enough. With a small sigh, she turned to the door expectantly as Steve walked out, his jaw set, his eyes glimmering with thinly veiled approval. Ginny felt decidedly relieved at the sight of it.

"That was a good run-through," he said loudly, as Wanda and Pietro – the last ones to exit – traipsed out of the room, dishevelled and sweaty. Ginny quickly turned her gaze away from Pietro. She hadn't talked to him since her run in with the other day and she was still determined not to. Unfortunately, however, it didn't make her immune to his constant staring. "But as we all know, we can't always expect everything to go to plan. But, that can't be helped. So, for the rest of the day, I want you all to rest – light gym work only if you want to work out; this gym has been reserved for our use only for the remainder of the day. Read up on the schematics of the facility, go over the mission plans, and if you have any questions, then come and ask Agent Romanoff or myself. Understood?"

There was a murmured chorus of, "Yes, sir," and Steve nodded his head curtly in response.

"Good. I'll see you all here tomorrow at 0300 hours sharp. And Agent Prewett? A word before you leave. The rest of you are dismissed."

Ginny resisted the urge to flush, feeling the penetrating stares of the team bore into her back as she stepped forward. To her right, Satsii snickered.

"Agent Satsii," Steve said coolly, raising an eyebrow. "I thought that I made myself clear."

He stopped sniggering. "Sorry, sir," he muttered, before turning away to follow the others. Ginny attempted not to roll her eyes. Satssi was such a git.

"So," Steve said, folding his arms across his chest, "how did it go for you?"

Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "It went better than expected, to be perfectly honest."

"Agent Carter has said that you've made good progress in the lessons."

Ginny paused. "I feel like I've improved."

Steve gave her a small smile. "And how do you feel about tomorrow?"

"Fine. As prepared as I can be, I guess."

"Good. Well, in that case, I suggest that you go and rest up, Agent Prewett. It's not going to get any easier."

Ginny nodded. "Thanks, sir," she muttered wryly, before turning on her heel and freezing just as abruptly.

Pietro. And he was glaring at her. And waiting right in front of the entrance to the woman's changing room. So much for her plan of avoiding him. Suppressing a groan, she began to walk stubbornly away to another area of the gym, her head high. She could always change later.

"Ginny," he said, his accented voice uncharacteristically sharp and Ginny felt a breath of wind as he passed her. She closed her eyes in annoyance and told herself to stay calm.

"Pietro," she acknowledged blankly, brushing a few hairs behind her ear as she pushed past him. "What's up?"

"What's up?" he said incredulously, watching as she picked up a skipping rope. "You've been avoiding me."

"And?" she said, raising an eyebrow as she wrapped the extra length of rope around her wrists. "Is that a crime?"

"Only when you're being hurt."

Ginny fell silent and pursed her lips, as she began to skip. She forced herself to take a deep breath, her feet thudding comfortingly against the gym floor. "Your concern is duly noted."

"Look, Ginny-"  
"Look, Pietro," she snapped, feeling slightly guilty for her snippy tone, "I know what I'm doing. I've suffered a lot worse than whatever those idiot children can dish out. Not to mention, the stuff that happens with the recruits stays with the recruits. I can take care of it." And she was going to. Whenever she next saw the two bastards.

His voice was low, even sincere, as he replied, "It doesn't mean that you should be suffering it."

"Well," she exclaimed bitterly, "the world is just unfair, isn't it?"

"It doesn't have to be."  
"Says the guy who literally held one of the biggest grudge matches of all time."

Pietro snorted softly. "You have me there, but we are friends, yes? Friends look out for each other."

Ginny nearly tripped over the rope. Friends? They were friends? Since when had that happened? Ginny's thoughts whirled dizzily and she stared at him disbelievingly, trying to remember when that had exactly occurred. Since the first day that she had met him, she had thought that he was an arrogant prat. He had swaggered up to her and asked her for her name, and right then, from that moment, she had known that he was going to be trouble. But, somehow, he wasn't as bad as he once had been, because somewhere along the line, Ginny had found herself being able to put up with his annoying habits and unbearable grins. And then the other day… He had been there for her, even when she had cried. Maybe… Maybe this wasn't so unexpected after all.

"Yes, we are friends, are we not?" he said impatiently, breaking Ginny violently out of her thoughts. "Besides," he added with his customary smirk, "you are friends with Wanda, so I get an automatic free pass."

She scowled at him and wondered if she was about to about a huge mistake as she muttered, "Fine. We're friends."

"Sorry?" he blinked exaggeratedly; his gaze tinged with the self assured arrogance that Ginny had somehow become accustomed to. "I didn't quite catch that."

Ginny stopped skipping and sighed. "Do I really have to say it again?"

"Yes," he grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "You do."

Ginny folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes to the ceiling of the gym, but even she couldn't withhold the small smile that pulled at the edges of her lips as she tried to remember when this had happened. "Then, yes, okay. We're friends. You happy?"

"Very." He sauntered over to her and snatched the rope from her hands, looking at it with interest. "So, does that mean that you'll tell me what's wrong?"

"No. And seeing as we're now friends," she emphasised, "can you hand me back my rope?"

"No," he said, a dangerous smirk crossing his face. "If you want the rope, then you'll have to catch me first."

"Fine," she retorted. "I'll just go and grab myself another one then." And she turned to the tub filled with skipping ropes only to find that the large tub that had been there only seconds before, was missing. Whirling around, Ginny scanned the gym for Pietro's silver hair and glared at him as she noticed the harmless, bright blue container that he had placed teasingly at his feet.

"You want your rope?" he called over to her, amusement filling his voice. "Then come and get it. And if anyone asks, then we are training!"

For a moment, Ginny stood completely still on the other side of the gym. She couldn't believe that this was happening. She couldn't believe that she was literally considering stealing a basket full of skipping ropes from the fastest man on the planet. She shook her head in disbelief, as she started padding slowly along the gym floor, beginning to consider the best ways that she could possibly retrieve the blue tub. Merlin, she couldn't believe she was doing this.

This is what kids did.

Oh, screw it, she thought savagely. _I need some fun._

This was just like when she had been younger and when Fred and George had stolen her favourite book. She found herself smiling softly at the memory. They had taken The Floating Castle when she had been sleeping and then devised a 'treasure hunt' in order for her to find it. It had taken her hours and she had had to endure an absolutely horrid trek throughout the entire house – including the attic – until she had eventually found it buried in one of the gnomes favourite holes in their garden. Even now, she still had the small scar on her finger from the vicious bite that the creature had given her. The whole thing had been a revenge attack after Ginny had accidentally turned their brooms into very large daisies after an unlucky attack of accidental magic – Ginny didn't even regret it; their outraged faces had been burned into her brain for life and even now, she smothered a chuckle as she conjured the same image again. In her mind, she saw Fred's boggled eyes, his mouth gaping as he stared at the overlarge flower that had taken the place of his beloved broomstick. George's eye had been twitching, his face becoming so red that Ginny had feared, in her young age, that he would catch on fire.

"Ginny?"

Ginny looked up with a quiet gasp of surprise, the memory shattering, splintering like glass and just like that, the illusion was broken. She blinked hard as Fred's face vanished and was embarrassed to feel the wetness that was trailing down one of her cheeks. She wiped it away roughly and resisted the urge to turn her head towards the ground. "Pietro, I, uh, I was just coming over to tell you that I will get that basket back, whether you like it or not." She tried to sound confident, but even she could hear the wavering note of uncertainty in her voice, feel the traitorous glassiness in her eyes.

"Ginny, what is wrong?"

"Nothing," she said quickly with a forced smile. "I was just… remembering something."

"Remembering what? Come on, Ginny, talk to me. We are friends now. We agreed on it."

"So we did," she said softly. "So we did, but first…"

She forced a sudden, impish smile onto her face and was sprinting across the floor, her feet pounding into the soft mats before Pietro could even realise what had happened. "But first," she yelled, "I'm going to get that basket!"

* * *

Ginny slumped to the gym floor, her chest heaving, sweat sliding down her back and soaking into her light t-shirt. This was not how she had imagined spending her afternoon, but it had been… surprisingly fun.

"You fight mean," she said breathlessly, turning her head towards Pietro's as he too lay next to her on the mat.

He scoffed at her and Ginny rolled his eyes as he raked a hand through his windswept hair. "Oh come on, so do you and don't," he said, as Ginny opened her mouth to protest, "even try to deny it. Natasha has been teaching you some of her tricks, hasn't she?" he accused.

"Maybe," she shrugged lightly. "So, does that mean that I get the basket then? Because, I did, you know, manage to haul it halfway across the room while you were-"

Pietro groaned, placing a hand dramatically over his eyes. "Yes, yes," he muttered childishly. "You get the basket on two conditions. You don't tell anybody what happened. Understand?"

"Understood." Ginny was unable to hide the amusement that laced her voice. "And what's the second one?"

"That you tell me why you were crying earlier. And whether or not you still have those bruises. You know, the ones that were shaped like hands."

Ginny's face darkened into a scowl at the abrupt request, her rare blissful feeling of peace slowly fading away. She had hoped that he had forgotten about those things. "You said only two conditions. There are now three."

"Fine," Pietro said. "You only get the basket on three conditions."

"Then I don't want the basket."

Her simple, brutal answer seemed to startle Pietro and he sat up slightly to glare down at her. "So, you still refuse to say what is troubling you."

"Yes," she said stubbornly. "I do. You don't have to like it."

"I don't like it," he frowned as he got to his feet and began to pace, his fingers tapping at a blinding speed on one of his thighs. "God, do you talk to anyone? Ever?"

"I'm talking to you right now, aren't I?" Ginny pointed out.

"Yes," he said in frustration, "but are you really talking to me? You always hide amongst these lies and questions! I never know whether or not what you are saying is the truth or whether it is something else."

"So, you don't trust me?" For some reason, her bitter revelation made her feel oddly miserable.

"No," Pietro lifted his chin. "I do trust you. I only worry for you." He sat back down with a heavy sigh. "In Sokovia, it is different than what it is like here. The civil war had made everyone restless, suspicious. We would walk out onto the streets and feel the stares on our backs until we turned the corner. We would speak, and we would see the traitorous eyes of the shop owner analyse our every word, trying to decide whether or not our deception was worthy. We lied for bread, for clothing, for everything that we could get our hands on, and before we knew it, we had wrapped ourselves in this web of lies. At the centre of it, through, lay one man. Tony Stark. Out of all of the lies, this was the one that started it all. I ignored everything else, created everything else in favour of this one thing, this one desire to kill him. I now realise that all I had been doing, the entire time, had been lying to myself in the worst way possible. And I used it to justify a great many things, some of which neither my sister nor I are proud of.

"Ginny, whatever it is that you saw, whatever it is that you went through, I understand. I understand what it is like to lose those who you love, to see your friends lie dead in the streets after another bombing. I know. I have seen it. And I have now learned, after a long, long time," he smiled a tight smile, "that it is not good to keep hiding these things to yourself. They will only fester and grow."

Ginny's voice was small as she replied, "So what do you suggest I do?"

"I suggest that you accept it," he said simply. "You cannot change the past. And I suggest that you talk."

"Like you talk about you being shot?" Ginny cut in, her eyes sharp. "Because if that's what you mean, then that's more than a little hypocritical, don't you think? How can you tell me to talk about wounds when you cannot yet come to terms with your own?"

Pietro's expression hardened and Ginny snorted in derision.

"What? Surely you don't think that I – that we – wouldn't have noticed? When it comes up, it is a one-word answer. When an interviewer asks, you smile and avoid the question. When someone kicks you in training, like I saw today, you wince."

"Did Wanda ask you to tell me about this?"

"I have a pair of eyes," she stated frigidly. "I use them."

"So, this is what you want to talk about then, is it?" he said coldly. "My getting shot?"

Ginny sat up, her eyes burning. "It is."

"And what will you do?"

She hesitated, thinking carefully over what she would say, what she would tell him. "My house," she started slowly, wistfully, "was called the Burrow. We lived, all nine of us, together in this house out in the middle of England, away from everyone and everything. It was falling down, old and creaky, and the rooms were so tiny and cramped. There was always something going on. There was never any peace. But that's what made it home. The kitchen was always the nosiest place, especially at dinner time, and when we had Harry, Hermione, and Fleur staying with us, it was even more crowded." She closed her eyes, the images swirling behind her eyelids and laid back on the gym mat. "Our favourite time was Christmas. Mum would always put on this ghastly singer, and when I say ghastly, I mean absolutely terrible. The screeching voice of her would echo throughout the entire kitchen and everyone would always tell her to turn the bloody thing off, but she never did. And then," she said softly, "we would share presents, eat until we couldn't eat anymore, and laugh for ages at whatever it was that Fred and George had done now or whatever ludicrous thing had happened at school that term. Even dad would stop looking so stressed and Harry would stop looking so troubled, even if it were only for a few hours. I always thought that it was horribly chaotic, but now that I look back, I only see a beautiful peace, one that I'll never be able to get back or see again. In the war," she swallowed, "as you already know, my mother and one of my brothers, Fred, died."

"Ginny-"

"No, I'm going to tell you this. After their deaths, I… I killed my mother's killer and, even though she was a complete psychotic bitch, there is not one day that I don't see the light fade from her eyes. It was my first kill, my first murder I suppose you could say, that I really meant, that I really wanted and I can still fill the rage when I think about it. All of the others, they were different. It was dark, dusty and the screams were so loud. Merlin, they were so loud. I couldn't see where I was going, I could barely hear what was going on around me and so I shot sp- I shot blindly into the mess. And when hands closed around me throat, I shot them too. I don't know who I killed, I don't even know if I killed them. I don't even know…" she trailed off. "I don't know."

She felt light fingers grasp her hands.

She didn't even pull away, as she allowed her vulnerable gaze to fall on the gym mats.

"So," she cleared her throat, "you going to talk now or what? That was our deal."

"Yes, yes," he said quietly. "I did." His fingers were still intertwined with hers and Ginny grasped them more tightly, revelling in their comforting warmth. She couldn't remember the last time that she had willingly held – gripped – someone else's hands and she felt herself blanch at the realisation. Three years. That was exactly how long it had been since the war, since Harry's death, since the murders of her brother, her mother, and her friends. For a moment, she was tempted to pull herself away from Pietro and run out of the gym in embarrassment. She hadn't been this open, this vulnerable in a long, long time and it was a feeling that she decidedly abhorred. But as she brought her eyes up to Pietro's, she saw the seriousness, the understanding, the pure, unexpected compassion that glinted there, and she couldn't bring herself to rip her hands from his. She would allow herself this. She would allow herself this one moment of weakness.

"I feel them," he said suddenly and Ginny looked to him curiously. "I feel them in my dreams – my nightmares. I feel the bullets, the pain, the shouting, Wanda's devastation… I see it, hear it, feel it all. Again and again. Over and over. It is… It is not as bad as it used to be, but…"  
"It's still there."

"It's still there," Pietro confirmed darkly. "When it happens, it is like I am seeing my own death, living it a thousand times over. When someone hits me on those scars, they ache. When I run and run and run, all I see is the blood that soaks through my shirt, just like it did back in Sokovia. I asked Doctor Cho about it, but she said that she could do nothing, that she had already done as she much as she could. She also," his voice grudging, "recommended that I see Dr Piqerton."

"And did you?" Ginny pressed lightly, the image of the pretty, dark skinned psychologist flickering through her mind.

"Maybe for a few sessions," he admitted.

"And did it help?"

"I would like to say no, but seeing as we are being honest, it did. For a while."

* * *

Natasha was standing with her back against the wall, her eyes closed and her breathing light. They didn't know that she was here, listening to every word that came out of their mouths, and a part of her wished that they did. But this was their moment. This was their story and who was she to break that?

Natasha had known that whatever had happened to Ginny Prewett through whatever war she had suffered through hadn't been pretty, but it was different listening to it. There was a raw truth in Ginny's hesitant voice and a detachment that only Natasha could detect, because detachment was what someone did when they were revealed the malicious demons of their past. Detachment was the only thing that worked, the only thing that held back the tirade of guilt and the flowing red that she knew dripped from her hands. She sighed a quiet sigh and rested her head against the wall, her hair pressing against her own scarred back.

She had reluctantly learned to deal with her self-hatred over the years. After all, after working with someone like Clint Barton, who was the most infuriating, intriguing, stubborn, and incredible person that she had ever met, she had had to learn to push her past behind her. It didn't mean, though, that it didn't still haunt her dreams, torturing her with nightmares that were all too real.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she focused on the murmuring sound of Pietro's accented voice. He was speaking quietly, too quietly for Natasha to make out the individual syllables of the different words, and she found herself relieved that the younger redhead had found someone to confide in. She only hoped that the elder Maximoff knew the importance, the privilege, of what Ginny was giving him.

It had taken her months to warm up to Clint, to begin to talk to him and let him into the mess that was her mind. She had been sure that he would never have been able to help her, sure that someone like him could never understood. But he had and that wasn't even the worst of it. Clint had stood by her, firm and steadfast, supported her in her decisions, healed her in ways that she had never realised could be possible.

With a small start, Natasha realised that Ginny was getting her second chance, her second chance at redemption, her second chance of life. It didn't mean that she trusted her – she was more than certain that there was something else that she was hiding under her careful expressions – but it did mean that she could see where she was coming from and understand her desperation for wanting something new, for wanting to start over.

She opened her eyes and peeled herself away from the wall, allowing a rare twitch of fatigue to show, before slithering away to the far gym that was now one of her favourite places to be.

* * *

Ginny jogged lightly out of the gym, feeling strangely light. She hadn't anticipated revealing anything, least of all to Pietro Maximoff, yet she had done just that. And it had felt good. She hadn't come here to make friends, hadn't intended to do or say anything than what she was required to do, yet here she was. Training to be an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., returning to a life that she was sure that she would never want again, making friends with people that she had been determined to shove away into a dark cove.

And Merlin did it feel good. It felt right. It felt like she was finally becoming a person that she could be proud of, that her family could be proud of, instead of being the shell of a person, the coward that she had been before. Receiving training… At first, she had seen it as a curse, but now she recognised that it was a gift. It made her feel powerful, capable once again. It had even helped with her nightmares. It had allowed her to make friendships.

With a small smile, she glanced briefly down at her watch and sighed at the time. It was already late afternoon. If she wanted any sleep at all, then she was going to have to go to bed soon and she grimaced at the thought. She hated going to bed in the afternoon, but she supposed that that was the nature of the job.

Rounding the corner, she almost jumped as she literally ran into Satsii, Reiter at his side. She rolled her eyes at them and bit down the smirk that was threatening to spread over her face. She had been waiting for this moment all week. Why else had she let them hit her? Childish idiots.

"Prewett."

Ginny tilted her head coolly. "Satsii. Reiter. You two prats ready for tomorrow?"

"Readier than you'll ever be."

"You mean more pigheaded than I'll ever be," she replied bluntly. There was no use bandying words and sly insults with people like these. "Still following him around like a dog on a leash, Reiter?" she asked the tall brunette or shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her stare. "Shame. You could actually be decent, you know. So, are you two going to let me pass then or are we going to do this the hard way?"

"There's a hard w-"

Ginny elegantly punched him in the face, ignoring the blood that spurted from his nose, and kneed him in the crotch, her expression a careful mask as she swept Satsii's feet from underneath him. He landed on the ground clumsily and swore as she grinned. Carter had taught her that one.

"Did you think that there wouldn't be? A hard way, that is?" she asked coldly.

"You bitch," he snarled. "You'll pay-"

"Pay? Me?" she hissed, finally allowing the icy fury to flood into her eyes and into her voice. She crouched down next to him, hauling him up by his regulation shirt. "I've paid enough in my life, you asshole. I've paid in ways that you, you pathetic asshole, can never imagine. What? You thought that it would be this easy to terrorise me? Did you ever think for one moment that I let you do that? That I let you hit me?" She snorted as she let him fall back against the floor. "I wanted to see how low you'd go. As for you, Reiter, like I said before. If you didn't follow him," she gestured to the bloody agent on the floor, "around, then you'd be all right."

And so she punched him for good measure too, feeling only slightly guilty as Reiter uncomplainingly took the hit; Ginny suspected that he had taken the punch out of a sense of guilt than anything else.

"As a friend of mine likes to say," she taunted with a triumphant flick of her hair, as she walked down the corridor, "'you didn't see that coming'? Because if you had been paying attention and not staring in admiration to your muscles, then you maybe you would have. Now you have to live with the fact that 'poor' Prewett kicked your asses."

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I'm back, free, and a happy chappy! My exams were okay, except for maths, which is typical since I spent six weeks studying for it. (Calculus, especially integration, is the worst, dear readers.) I guess that you can never be too sure until you find out, though.**

 **Thank you all so much for the support from all of your guys! Reviews, favourites, follows, and views always make my day! If you see any mistakes (I'm exhausted), then please let me now ASAP and I shall fix them!  
**  
 **To Al: Thank you so much for your support and I hope that you enjoyed today's chapter!**

 **To aromatictruth: Thanks for the luck and the support! I hope that you liked today's chapter!**

 **To Katelyn: Sunday updates have started once again! Thank you for your support :)**

 **To Guest: Ginny shall definitely be revealing her powers in the near future! Some of your guesses as to how, though, were pretty good. Thanks for your lovely review!**

 **To E.J. Rudys: You flatter me with your lovely words. I'm really glad that you're still enjoying the story!**

 **So, we have the mission next chapter! I can't wait to post it (it's still a work in progress, unfortunately, but it's definitely getting there)! So, depending on how it goes, seeing as I actually have time now (until I get a small job, that is, until uni starts), I will try to post it before next week's update. If you want any more info, then please see my profile!**

 **I hope that you all have a lovely week!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	22. Chapter 22

When you spend so long trapped in darkness, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.

 _A Court of Mist and Fury_

 _Sarah J. Maas_

* * *

Ginny stepped out of the plane, feeling more than a little bit uncomfortable in the skin-tight cat suit that she had been forced to wear. Merlin, she already hated thing and she had barely been wearing it for two hours. How Maria Hill stood to walk around in one of these things almost every day, Ginny had no idea.

She passed a nervous glance to Claire Rhang who gave her a steady nod in return, the message in her eyes all too clear: _Deal with it, Prewett._ Ginny rolled her eyes and turned her gaze downwards, her hands running over the weapons that had been attached to the utility belt that had been tied firmly around her hips. An M9 Berretta pistol. A sharpened knife. Her wand. She was ready for this. Yesterday had proved it.

"So, how are you feeling?"

Ginny didn't even blink as the air that signalled Pietro's arrival whipped the few strands of her hair that hadn't fit into her tight braid into her face. She tucked them behind her ears casually.

"I'm fine," she muttered. "I'm not a fan of this, though," she gestured in distaste to the tactical suit.

"Really?" Pietro smirked. "Well," he leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear, "I think that it suits you."

Ginny glared at him and stepped away from him. "Hilarious. Real funny, Pietro."

"I'm a funny guy. So, are we still friends?"

Ginny sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes to heaven. "Yes! That's what I said yesterday and that's what I'm saying again today."

Pietro shrugged and grinned innocently at her. "It is just that you are a very unpredictable person. I had to make sure that I didn't dream it all."

Ginny sighed, unable to keep the small smile off her face. "Where's Wanda?"

"Talking to Vision."

"All right then," Ginny mused, shooting him a questioning stare at his biting tone. "I have to go and see her about something before we get started. I'll see you later."

She turned to leave but found herself unable to move as Pietro's warm fingers clamped loosely around her upper arm. She glanced at him sharply, a protest already rising on her lips.

"If I don't see you until we begin," he cut in, his voice oddly low, his blue eyes bleeding sincerity, "then stay safe. I mean it, Ginny. I don't like seeing my friends hurt. If something happens, I will be there. I promise."

She stared at him for a moment, her own eyes wide, trying to remember when the last time that someone had said that to her. Harry. It had been Harry. Harry was the last one who said something like that to her and she felt her breath catch in her chest.

"I…" Her voice sounded strangled even to her own ears. "Um, I'll stay safe to the best of my ability, I mean. But I can handle myself."

"I know. That is why I worry."

Ginny pulled away from Pietro, her arm leaving the warmth of his hand but his words staying very much alive in her mind. It was hard, this friend thing, she mused, as she walked away in the direction of his twin sister. She wasn't used to it. She wasn't used to someone caring about what she did or where she went and the feeling of it, was odd. After all, she had taken care of herself and her interests for three years and she had gotten by just fine.

But she had missed out on so much, she realised, glancing briefly back at the silver haired speedster who was joking with Clint.

"Ginny?"

Her head whirled around in surprise, her eyes focusing on the brunette who was dressed in her now customary red costume. "Wanda!" she smiled. "I was looking for you. How are you doing? I haven't seen you in a while."

Wanda shrugged lightly. "I am fine, but can we…" she sighed. "Can we talk? After the mission? I just-"

"Everyone gather round!" Steve's voice cut through Wanda's and the chatter died off, a serious air replacing the previous light-hearted and joking atmosphere.

"We'll talk later," Ginny promised, staring at Wanda quizzically before walking over to where the other recruits were standing. Her eyes lingered on Wanda's form. She had been acting strange for the past week, not saying much, and keeping to herself in general.

Wanda, out of all of them, had been the first one to show her a glimmer of trust, a trust that had been further intensified by Ginny's eventual reveal of the truth. And Wanda had been as good as her word. She hadn't told anyone, hadn't even given anyone a reason to suspect that she was hiding Ginny's well-protected secret.

"So, everybody. Listen up," Steve demanded, wrenching Ginny out of her thoughts. "You all know the plan. You all know what to do. If you feel yourself getting lost," his gaze zeroing in the recruits, "then don't hesitate to call for help. Understood?"

Everyone nodded and Ginny felt her heart clench slightly faster in her chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness beginning to fill her veins.

"Rhang, Edwards, and Reiter, follow us in," Clint was saying. "We'll take out the direct threats and when you follow, you finish 'em all off. It's just like what we did yesterday. You good with that, Steve?"

Steve nodded. "And once they're clear, I want Agents Prewett and Satsii following. Clint, you'll give the signal. You're both doing information recon." He handed Ginny and Satsii three USB sticks each. "The red has a program that will access the server. It should get you in without any problems. The green one is for downloading the information on the system for this particular base and, just a warning, it may take a while. You should only plug the blue one in until you get our signal, because it'll take down and erase the entire system. Got it?"  
Ginny and Satsii nodded. They had gone through this yesterday, but going through it again never hurt.

"All right then," Clint said. "Looks like we're going in. Wanda, Pietro. You know how this works." And the twins looked at each other before Pietro scooped up Wanda. He was gone in a flash of silver, with Clint following with his bow raised, at a much slower pace, behind them.

* * *

The air was stagnant, her senses sharp, and she wiped a bead of sweat that was threatening to slither its way down her cheek from her brow, as Ginny and Satsii entered the darkened compound. They walked slowly, cautiously with their guns sitting in their gloved hands as they followed the trail of bodies that the others had left behind. It was bigger than Ginny had expected to be. From above, the place looked like an abandoned old barn, old and decrepit, but on the inside? The only place that Ginny had seen that had more modern tech was the Avengers Facility and she swallowed hard at the thought.

They rounded another corner, delving their way deeper into the base and closer towards their destination. The silence was absolutely deafening and she found herself becoming very glad that many of the agents had already been taken care of – the amount of people that littered the ground in tactical gear was phenomenal – and that she and Satsii only had to download the data on the servers.

"Wait." Her partner's voice hung in the stillness and Ginny almost hissed at him to be quiet, afraid that the peace in the corridors would snap at any second. "Do you hear that?"

Ginny closed her eyes and concentrated, about to hiss back that she didn't hear anything, when she heard it. Whispers. From the next corridor along. They shared a look and edged closer to the hallway in question, the whispers merging into audible words. Ginny's gun began to feel heavier in her hand, her mouth drying and her hope for a quiet mission fading away into nothing.

"We should call the others," Ginny murmured. "This isn't a part of what we need to do."

But Satsii shook his head dismissively, his jaw set in a determined line. "They have their own shit to take care of. It'll take too long for them to get here," he argued in response and he clicked the safety mode off his gun.

"No!" Ginny hissed. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You'll give away our position!"

"They'll give away ours! I can take them, Prewett," he whispered back viciously. "Why don't you just leave this to the professionals, yeah?"

"Wait-"

Satsii surged around the corner and into the corridor, the sounds of his shots cracking like a whip. Ginny cursed, her heart thumping in her chest. What the hell was he thinking? What, did he just think that he was going to be able to take care of those HYDRA agents and get away unscathed? He was just a recruit for Merlin's sake! Still swearing to herself, she ran after him, refusing to leave the git behind. He may be an asshole, but he was still her partner and partners, she thought darkly, didn't abandon each other. She took a deep breath and cleared her mind, cool detachment racing through her veins as she raised the weapon in her hands, the sound of the safety clicking off heavy in her ears. She pressed the trigger.

One.

The sound of the shot reverberated throughout the room and a figure towards the end of the corridor sank to the ground.

Two.

Another agent slumped limply to the floor.

Three.

A third figure dropped.

Glancing around herself blindly, Ginny looked for her teammate and swore when she saw his trademark blonde hair glinting halfway down the hallway. He wasn't moving.

"Agent Satsii is down. I repeat, Agent Satsii is down!" she yelled into her comm.  
"How bad is it?" Steve's voice crackled in her ear.

Ginny skidded to a stop next to the arrogant blonde, struggling to turn him over. "He's not looking good," she said grimly.

"What's your location?"

"First floor, fifth corridor to the right." The sound of her pulsing heart was the only thing that she heard as she finally turned his motionless body. She froze in dread when she saw the blunt hole that lay in the centre of his forehead. The wound was leaking blood, the substance trailing down his pale skin, his eyes wide and unseeing.

He was dead.

Kevin Satsii, talented, ruthless, arrogant, was dead.

Her hands started shaking her head in disbelief, because this wasn't possible. How could this be possible? How could it be possible?

"What's his condition?"

Ginny couldn't say anything. How could she? She had dealt with death before. She had dealt with it a lot. She knew that casualties were a part of the business. She just hadn't expected to see it again so soon. Stiffly getting to her feet, her trembling hands falling limply to her side, she could only quietly say, "He's dead. Agent Satsii is dead."

Her comm seemed to explode in her ear barely a second later and she withheld a wince.

"Someone get there now!"

"Talk to me, Prewett."

"Are you hurt?"

"What's your status?"

"Cap and I are on our way. Sit tight."

But only one made it past Ginny's deadened senses. "Overwatch, confirm." It was Steve.

There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line. "Agent Satsii is dead." Maria's voice was heavy. "It's confirmed. We've lost vitals. Visuals also confirm cause of death being a bullet to the head. Agent Prewett, you did everything right. Can you continue?"

Ginny clenched her hands into fists, feeling her nails dig into her palms. This shouldn't have happened. It wasn't supposed to have happened. But it had. It had and there was nothing that she could do about it.

Like Harry. Just like Harry.

She swallowed back a sob. She had to focus. She had to focus or she would be the next body lying hopelessly on the ground. "I can continue." Her voice sounded foreign to her ears.

"Good. Are you injured?"

"No." She ignored the several sighs of relief that echoed over the line.

"Sit tight. Nat's coming to join you. In the meantime, watch your six."

Ginny nodded numbly, unable to rip her eyes from the large, empty green ones of Satsii.

Harry. Just like Harry.

What would happen to him? Would his body be able to leave this hellhole or was he doomed to stay here with all of the others that had already died today? Ginny knew that all of the men… All of the men and women that had lost their lives weren't doing good things, but did they really deserve all of this brutality?

Ginny stopped her questioning. The moment she started asking more questions like that was the moment that everything would fall to pieces around her. And she couldn't allow that to happen. She was helping to make the world a better place, just like in the Final Battle. HYDRA, as she had learned in her theory lessons back at the facility, was an organisation that wanted everything but peace. They were brutal, cruel, and completely and utterly ruthless and the less HYDRA agents that there were, meant the less that the world had to sorry about being screwed over.

"Prewett!"

She spun around, her gun already trained on the figure that was sprinting towards her. She only relaxed when she recognised Natasha.

"Steve's on the lower levels," she reported, not even sparing the dead agents on the floor a second glance. "He can handle himself. You okay?"

"I will be," Ginny mumbled, tearing her eyes away from her partner's lifeless body. "I will be."

"You know," her voice was strangely soft, "no one would blame you-"

"No." Ginny was surprised at her forceful tone. "I can finish this." And she paused, allowing a note of uncertainty to enter her voice, "Will… will-"

"We'll make sure that he gets back to his family," Natasha quietly promised.

Ginny nodded absently. "Good."

"Do you still have the flash drives?

"Yeah."

And the two ran off towards the computer lab, following the exact trail that Ginny had burned into her brain earlier that week.

She couldn't forget his unseeing eyes. Eyes that had looked just like Harry's.

* * *

Fury found himself tapping his fingers irritably on his knees, as he waited for the secretary to the Prime Minister to come and collect him. He still couldn't fucking believe that he had to wait. The Prime Minister knew how urgent this was, yet here he was. Still waiting. Still sitting in a fucking lobby that stank of detergent and money, waiting for some bureaucratic soft-assed politician to come and collect him.

Couldn't they understand urgency?

Obviously not and Fury snorted derisively to himself, glaring at the secretary who had looked up curiously. He almost smirked when he saw him look down quickly, shuffling the papers a little more quickly than he had been before. It was always amusing to see how others reacted to him, especially people that worked in a place like this.

Honestly, it was like they had never seen a murderer before.

"Mr Nick Fury to see the Prime Minister?"

About fucking time, he grumbled to himself, and he pushed himself to his feet, glaring at the dainty woman who quailed under his stare.

"Follow me, sir," she murmured.

The Prime Minister looked weary, even more so when Fury stepped into the room and he briefly wondered whether or not the Prime Minister already knew what he had come to ask. He dismissed the thought as soon as he saw curiosity flick across his face. The Prime Minister would know what he wanted soon enough.

"Thank you, Amanda," the man said, clearing his throat as he gestured for the small woman to leave and close the door behind her. "So, Agent Fury. Take a seat. What can I do for you?"

Fury decided to stay standing. "I'm here to ask you about a war," he said bluntly. "A war that, intriguingly enough, not even your precious MI6 knows about."

A jolt of fear passed across the Prime Minister's face and Fury smirked to himself. Some fucking success at last.

"A war, you say?" The Prime Minister's hands twisted on the desk. "Which one are you referring-"

"I think that you know exactly the war that I'm referring to, Mr Prime Minister," Fury interrupted, "and I think that you also know, that I don't like being kept in the dark."

* * *

The download was at 26% and Ginny tapped her fingers impatiently against her legs, her eyes constantly flicking to the doorway. It was taking forever and it was making her nervous; the longer that she was here, the higher chance she had of being discovered.

Natasha had left her a couple of minutes ago to scout another area of the floor – there had been some activity somewhere and she wanted to make sure that it didn't become a problem.

"Everyone, report," Steve's voice barked in her ear and she almost jumped, not expecting anyone to break the eerie silence.

"I'm in a computer lab," Ginny reported. "Everything's being downloaded as we speak. Nat's checking out some activity on the far south side of the first floor."  
"Third floor," Rhang's voice crackled over the microphone with a grunt and Ginny heard a nasty, wet snapping sound echo in her ear. "The third floor is now completely clear. Edwards and Reiter are here as well."

"Tony, Rhodey? Report."

"We've taken down all of the outside threats and gotten our hands on a few nice surprises. We're about to enter the building now."

"Hawkeye?"

"We've reached the main labs, although we triggered a couple of alarms, so things might be getting further downstairs."

"Found anything?"

"Not yet. It all looks pretty average so far."

The sound of heavy footsteps echoing just outside the computer made her whip around, the reports turning to white noise in her ear.

That wasn't Natasha.

She grabbed her gun off of the table and crept up through the room, her breaths quiet and controlled. The person, whomever it was, hadn't bothered to check inside the lab and Ginny felt minimal relief pass through her body as she edged up to the doorway.

And that was when it all went very, very wrong.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! Here is the first part of the mission. I was originally going to have it all in one chapter, but was forced to split it into two due to complexity and length.**

 **Thanks to all of my lovely readers, favourites, follows, and reviewers for making this week awesome! Thanks to all of my guest reviewers, Amber, Taylor, Ally and the three unnamed Guests. Now, seeing as there were quite a few guest reviewers, I shall write one message to you all:** **Thank you all for your super lovely words and your support! It's very much appreciated. I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter!**

 **And I have finally started my own novel, which is very exciting! It's actually taking up more time than I originally anticipated, which means that most days, I am writing, writing, thinking, and then doing, you guessed it, more writing. I'm also setting up a blog (because advertising, apparently), but I don't know when that's gonna be ready or what I'm even gonna put on it. If anyone has any experience with that kind of thing, then help would be much appreciated.**

 **One final thing. One of my awesome readers, Ryuko monogatari, suggested that I hold a competition for a potential superhero name and costume for our lovely Ginny Weasley. So, if you have any ideas, then write 'em down and I'll put them all in a poll on my profile. The proposal time will last until next Sunday.**

 **So, to finish up, 'Part 2' of the mission is coming next Sunday and in the meantime, I hope that you all have a brilliant week!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	23. Chapter 23

"Escape plan? When no one is left, you walk out the front door."

 _Jacob Frye_

* * *

"I really must apologise, Mr Fury," the Prime Minister was saying, his fingers twisting nervously under the table; he wasn't stupid enough for someone like Nick Fury to witness his tell. "But I really don't know what you could be referring to. Have you spoken to the people down at MI6? They would probably-"

"I've spoken to them," Fury growled and the Prime Minister blinked. "Why else do you think I came here?"

"Then what makes you think I know anything at all?"

"The fact that you're sweating, Mr Prime Minister," Fury stated coldly, and the Prime Minister watched as the man began to pace slowly around his office. Fury stopped at the edge of the fireplace momentarily and the Prime Minister felt his breath catch. "The fact that your hands are twisting under the table. The fact that your foot is unconsciously tapping. The fact that your right hand keep inching towards your right drawer."

The Prime Minister stopped his tapping foot, his hand pausing on his desk, and scowled. When he had heard that Nick Fury had wanted to speak with him, he had done his best to make sure that there was no way that it could happen. When he had heard that Fury was waiting out in the lobby, he had done his best to stall him. It seemed, he thought bitterly, that his efforts had been useless.

"On whose authority-"

Fury laughed, casually stalking over to his desk. The Prime Minister tensed as the man picked a photograph of his daughter up, examining the young, smiling child with an icy scrutiny. "Authority? Is that really what you want to talk about, Mr Prime Minister? Well, if that's what you want to talk about, then I will tell you this." His one eye glittered as he placed the photograph back on the desk and the Prime Minister swallowed. "I came here on my own fucking authority, Mr Prime Minister, because one of my sources told me that they met a girl who was a part of a secret war that happened within the borders of your beloved country."

He felt a drop of sweat trail down his spine. "I… I assure that I don't know what you're talking about. This girl must be deluded."

Fury shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe she is. I have to say that I haven't actually had the pleasure of meeting her yet."

A small respite, the Prime Minister breathed. If he didn't know the girl, then he could claim that she was unstable. Maybe he would be able to get away with this after all.

"But," Fury continued and the Prime Minister froze once again, "that doesn't explain how this girl got some of my best people, my best spies, to believe her little story. In doing so, this simple girl has compromised some of the most powerful people on this earth. I'm sure that you know who I'm talking about."

The Prime Minister nodded hurriedly. The Avengers.

"As you I'm sure you can see, Mr Prime Minister," the words sharp on Fury's tongue, "this could be a huge problem. For everyone. For the whole planet. Do you not see? The Avengers protect this world, they make sure that good can still keep on fucking surviving, and now, because of a girl claiming that there was a secret war and who has managed to wrap those people are around her little finger, everything that they stand for, has been put at risk."

The Prime Minister nodded again.

"So, if she has evidence," Fury went on, "to influence some of the most powerful people on this world, then I figured, as the most powerful man in this country, that you would have some too. Am I right, Mr Prime Minister?"

"I…" He didn't know what to say. After all, everyone knew Nick Fury. Everyone knew his brutal methods, his unfeeling agents, his ability to control without those he was controlling knowing it. His eyes flickered to his photo of Marlene, his daughter. She had been only eight years old when she had died, had lost the battle to the tumour that had grown in her brain. Sometimes, he put the photo face down on the desk, sure that she was teasing him as he worked, and he was tempted to do so now. "I…" he said finally, "I'm afraid that I'm not the person that you should be talking to about this matter." His foot was tapping again, he realized dully.

"Oh?" Fury placed his hands on the desk and he leaned back ever so slightly in his chair. Fury's smirk told the Prime Minister that the spy hadn't missed his slight movement. "And who should I be talking to then?"

"Someone who's not me," he reiterated.

"Call them."

"They won't like that." No, they wouldn't like that at all. Kingsley Shacklebolt was one of those people that you didn't want to get on the wrong side of.

"Call them."

"I don't know if they'll come." If there was one thing that the Prime Minister had learned, it was that wizards and witches were spontaneous, always jumping into his office unexpectedly.

"Well," Fury took a seat in one of the plush chairs that lined his office, "if you don't call them, then we'll never find out whether or not they'll come, will we?"

The Prime Minister got to his feet with a gulp.

* * *

The figure was Fenrir Greyback. Ginny's mouth went dry. There was no mistaking it. His face was lined and scarred, his hair as grey as iron, but his eyes were the same, cruel and disgustingly malicious. Ginny pressed her back against the wall in incredulity as the werewolf rounded a corner, her heart in her throat. He hadn't seen her, she convinced herself, as she peered into the hallway once more, his steps fading into nothing. He hadn't seen her. Greyback hadn't seen her.

She thought that he had been captured after the war, that he had been tracked down by a team of aurors and thrown in Azkaban. She remembered seeing 'Wanted' signs all over the Prophet and Diagon Alley, his wretched face grinning and smirking down at those who dared to walk past.

Apparently, though, if his appearance was anything to go by, he hadn't been arrested, hadn't been given the punishment that he truly deserved and Ginny felt a vicious scowl cross her face. But why was he here? Why was he helping HYDRA, a Muggle organisation no less, do their dirty work? She felt a prickle of apprehension tingle along her spine. What had they given him to bring him to their side? But perhaps more importantly, what had he given them?

Glancing around herself carefully, she slinked out into the middle of the corridor – there was no question of what she had to do and the download could surely wait. She wound her way through the floor, one hand constantly close to her wand at her hip, retracing the sound of Greyback's footsteps until she came across a small, darkened room at the end of a concealed passageway. The air was colder down here, she noted with a small shiver, and there wasn't a single camera in sight. She frowned, unable to recall this exact area on the blueprints. It seemed that she was alone in this part of the compound and she felt a small wave of relief at the thought. At least she would be able to use her magic freely here.

"Greyback," a voice snapped, the sound echoing into the hallway and she froze. Don't get too close, she told herself silently. If you get too close, he'll be able to smell you and then it'll be game over. "Is it set?"

"The trap is set," Greyback hissed. "They won't know what'll be upon them until it's too late."

There was a slight pause before a curt, "Good. And you're sure that this convoluted plan of yours will work?"

"Why? Do you doubt it?" Greyback's voice was dangerously low.

"No," the other person backpedalled. "No, not at all. It's just that, well, the whole thing's a bit far-fetched, isn't it? This whole soul-sucking and kiss-of-death thing?"

There was a snarl and a yelp of pain. "There's nothing far-fetched about it," Greyback spat. "You get what you want, which is the Avengers to be gone, and I'll get what I want. It's that fucking simple. Now, you push the button when I tell you to, or things will get very, very ugly, understand?"

There was a pathetic whimper. "I understand."

Ginny's sharp intake of air gave her away, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Dementors. That was what Greyback had given them. He had given them Dementors. That's why they had all come here today, she realized with a jolt of horror. HYDRA had led them here with the aim of them all being ruthlessly exterminated by an enemy that they would have no chance of beating.

Her heart quickened in her chest. She had to tell the others. She had to tell them to leave the lower levels, tell them to escape and get out of here as quickly as possible, but she didn't know where they were being kept and she knew that the Avengers wouldn't stop unless there was a good enough reason to.

"You."

Her head snapped up. "Greyback," Ginny's murmured, her eyes unnaturally bright in the shadows. "I bet that you didn't count on me, did you, you git?" And she ripped her wand from her belt, words springing her lips. Greyback slammed against the wall a second later, ropes binding his wriggling, snarling form. She only dimly comprehended that her comm had been fried in her ear, the magic killing its power.

"Immobulus," she said calmly and she smiled a dark smile, circling him slowly. He was pathetic, she realized, not hearing the obscenities that he screamed at her. She flicked her wand at him and he fell silent, his shrieks no longer filling the corridor. Pathetic, not even deserving of the ropes that bound him, and she snorted to herself. He didn't deserve ropes. He didn't deserve the simplicity that they represented. "Not so much fun to be on the receiving end, is it?"

She decided to leave him there – it wasn't like he was going to able to go anywhere –before moving onto the quivering man in the office. He, like Greyback, was a wretched figure, she decided. He was large and balding, his eyes shining with a glimmer of fear, yet… Ginny narrowed her eyes. Triumph glinted there too.

"What did you do?" she hissed forcefully, forcing her wand underneath the soft flesh of his double chin.

The man whimpered and the triumph in his eyes all but disappeared, lost to his overwhelming sense of fear. Good. He should be afraid.

"What did you do," she repeated forcefully.

"I… I released them," he rasped. "I released them."

"Where?"

He coughed.

"I asked where," Ginny snarled and the man's eyes widened even further, his eyes beginning to water. She could almost see the fear rolling off him in waves.

"Lower level 13," he wheezed finally. "Please don't kill me. P-please don't kill me."

Ginny removed her wand from his neck and the man let out an audible sigh of relief, sinking weakly against the chair. He didn't see her raise her wand, hear the words leave her lips until it was too late, and he was left, a frozen body, in the small room.

* * *

When Natasha had returned to the computer lab, she found an urgently pacing Ginny Prewett. She was unnaturally pale, her hair wild and out of place. A deep scratch lined her cheek, blood leaking down her skin, and Natasha's eyes narrowed suspiciously. She looked like she had been in a fight, a vicious one.

"Natasha," Ginny breathed, her voice tense. "You need to call the others. They need to get out of the lower levels and they need to do it now."

"Why?"

Ginny's lips pursed, her eyes flashing with a grim determination that Natasha had not yet seen from the younger agent. "I ran into… some unsavoury company. They've been dealt with, for now, but my comm died. There's something on the lower levels that has the capacity to kill the Avengers."

Natasha felt herself still. How did she know this? "Excuse me?"

"There's something on the lower levels that has the capacity to kill the Avengers. All of them. They need to get out of there right bloody now. If they won't get out of there," Ginny half muttered to herself, "then I'll take care of it."

Natasha didn't allow herself to waste a second more; whether or not Ginny's information was sound, was irrelevant, and she raised a hand to her ear, turning herself away. "Everyone, get out of the lower levels."

"We're almost there, Tash," Clint complained in her ear.

"That's an order," Natasha said sharply. "Get out of the lower levels."

"Why?" Steve wanted to know.

"Prewett got a tip-off. Her comm's down. Where are you?"

"Close to the objective," Steve reported. "Are you sure that it's urgent?"

"Yes." Natasha wasn't going to take any chances.

"What's the nature of the threat?" Stark asked.

"Unsure. Just get out. I mean it."

"Guys," Maria's voice echoed through Natasha's comm. "I'm getting weird energy readings on Level 13. The temperature just dropped fourteen degrees Celsius."

Natasha didn't notice for another few seconds that Ginny Prewett was no longer in the room.

* * *

"So, now what?"

"Now we wait," the Prime Minister snapped, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. He still didn't know whether or not it had been the right decision to call Kingsley Shacklebolt and he felt nerves twist unwelcomingly in his stomach. He hadn't had a lot of run-ins with the Minister for Magic and that was just how he liked it. The Prime Minister stayed out of their business and they stayed out of his. "Now we wait and see whether or not he'll come."

"Who?"

"A Minister," he replied impatiently. "A very important one."

Fury muttered something under his breath about ministers and the Prime Minister almost asked him to repeat what he had said, before thinking better of it.

"Do we have an ETA?"

The Prime Minister shrugged helplessly. "It could from seconds to hours. I don't know. I've never done this before. Normally," he babbled, "he just comes when it's necessary. I've never had to call him before. Not like this."

The Prime Minister fell silent and sighed anxiously. The last time that he had met with Shacklebolt had been over six months ago, after a wizarding cult had gone on a rampage in London. The death count – 226 – was a number that he was never going to be able to forget. The Minister himself had been oddly sincere and harsh about the incident, telling him that those involved would receive the punishment that they were due, and the Prime Minister had believed him.

He wondered what the punishment was like in the Wizarding world. Was it like what it had been in the dark ages? Or was it much, much worse? A second later, he decided that he didn't want to know, envisioning elaborate torture chambers lit by hanging orbs of light, and dungeons filled with screaming, cackling ghosts.

In truth, he barely knew anything about the Wizarding world. Of course, he knew about the things that they wanted him to know, like the Wizarding War – a war that only he knew about – and the danger that some magic presented. Other than that… He searched his memory, scouring for the few bits of information that he did have.

There was nothing else.

A part of him wanted to know more, wanted to know more about this society that lived under their noses in which the impossible became horrifyingly real. After all, it was the dream of almost every child, to find out that magic was real, but… A world that knew about magic, he supposed, wouldn't know boundaries or limitations and that could make the world a much more dangerous place. Humans were restricted by things like age and death and the knowledge that there was nothing fantastical that flew outside their bedroom windows, and it was that knowledge that kept them safe, that kept them sane.

Of course, he couldn't speak for the Wizarding world on those matters, but he was quite sure that there was at least one way to stop aging and that there was a way to beat Death himself.

But still. He wouldn't mind a little bit of magic in his otherwise boring life.

The fireplace fizzled and he jumped in his chair, his eyes widening at the small pile of soot that sat in the grate. He ignored Fury's patronising, questioning frown, as he got to his feet and stepped hesitantly towards the old fireplace. He almost sat down, almost managed to calm his pounding heart, until it burst into green flames, the eerie colour filling the room.

"He's here," the Prime Minister murmured and the cold sweat returned.

He was getting too old for this.

* * *

Ginny was breathless, her hair unnaturally bright against the paleness of her skin, as she ran down flight after flight of stairs. She tripped more than once, resulting in a few painful scrapes and bruises, but she simply got back to her feet and ran relentlessly onwards. She hoped that Natasha had called the others, had made them aware of the situation. She hoped that they were on their way out, but knowing them and their hero complexes… Ginny seriously doubted that any of them were out.

She laughed bitterly to herself, wondering how this had happened, wondering how something that was supposed to have been a simple mission had turned into a dangerous game of magical warfare.

Why did all of these things happen to her?

Ginny really had no bloody clue.

She flew down the last staircase, sighing in relief when she saw the number '13' labelled on the wall. Thank Merlin. She didn't think that she would have been able to run down any more sets.

She jogged lightly up to the door and wrenched on the handle, frowning when it didn't budge. Someone banged on the door from the inside.

"Who's there?"

That was Steve. "It's Ginny," she replied tersely. "Is it locked?"

"Yeah. Why, you got a key?" Steve asked and Ginny raised an eyebrow in slight amusement at the mocking tone in his voice.

Ginny whipped out her wand and pointed it at the lock. "Who else is on the floor?"

"The Maximoffs, Barton, and myself. Romanoff told me that your comm is down?"

"Yeah," she muttered, hearing the satisfying click as the door unlocked itself. She pulled it open and stared at Steve, ignoring his questioning stare. "Where are the others? It's not safe to be down here."

"Coming," was all Steve said. "They're coming. What's down here?"

"You don't want to know," Ginny muttered darkly and she stormed into the floor. It was larger than the other ones, she noted. Larger and more foreboding. "Steve," she asked curiously, as she peered around a darkened. "Do you believe in magic?"

He was silent. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

She felt a shiver slip down her spine and she whipped around, the few strands of her hair flying wildly, her eyes scanning the ground. Were they here already? Had they already wrought their destruction on the floor?

But she didn't see any ice, didn't feel the cold hand of dread. At least, not yet. So she turned back around, her hand hovering close to her wand.

"Well," Steve said slowly. Ginny didn't miss his cautious glance. "I've seen people get disintegrated into nothing via the energy of a cube. I've seen gods fight each other. Wanda's own power speaks for itself – there's a reason why she's beginning to garner the name Scarlet Witch."

"Is that a yes, then?" Ginny noticed a sprinkling of frost glittering menacingly in the darkness. They were close.

Steve sighed a heavy sigh, as though he couldn't believe what he was about to say. "Yes."

"Good," Ginny nodded absently, "because, and this is just a warning, things may be getting a tad crazy down here in a little bit."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's the truth. Just… and," she exhaled quietly, apprehensively, "I know that this sounds selfish, but… please don't think any less of me for it."

Steve didn't reply to that one, as they rounded the next corner.

The image that greeted her was coldly horrifying. Unforgettable.

The hooded figures hung in the corridor, frost and ice creeping up the concrete, and she felt her breath catch. There it was, that horrible dread, reaching for her soul, her very essence. She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth, and forced herself to focus. No one would escape from this building alive otherwise.

She opened her eyes. She didn't know how many there were, but there were at least ten, feasting on the faintly moving bodies of Clint, Wanda, and Pietro. A pang of anger burst through her veins, burning the coldness away as the fury sharpened her vision. These people, though she barely knew them, had slowly become many things to her.

She wasn't about to lose the people that she had come to see as friends and she pulled her wand from her belt once again.

She didn't know what Steve could see, but his sharp intake of air told her all that she needed to know. He went to move forward, but Ginny grabbed his arm, hissing that he would join them if he were to move any closer. He gave her a bewildered, suspicious stare, but Ginny ignored him.

She had to focus. She had to focus if she wanted this to succeed.

She opened her mouth, the words to the spell on the tip of her tongue, but they froze in her throat as one leaned towards her, the blackness seeping from underneath the lifeless cowl like ink. She heard someone saying her name from behind her, but she couldn't rip her eyes away from the drooping, wilting Dementors. The handle of her wand was slimy in her sweaty grasp and she glanced down at it, the figures drifting closer. She felt herself begin to shiver.

A happy memory, she reminded herself. She needed a happy memory.

Images ran through her mind, playing like a beautiful, colourful film. Her running gleefully with her grinning father, her favourite doll dancing beside her. Her mother's happiness. Fred and George's excitement as she rode a broom for the first time. Riding in the boats across a lake that had shone as dark as the night sky. Her pride at being selected to be in Gryffindor. Her laughing with her few friends. Her happiness at being reunited with her family after the Chamber of Secrets. Her first kiss.

No, she thought to her self in frustration, panic beginning to well up inside her. No! All of those… They were too trivial, none of them powerful enough to sustain the power of the spell that she needed to cast.

And then she saw it and she was reminded of times of peace, times long past. It was like a ray of sunshine, allowing light and a beautiful warmth to flood her dark thoughts and she was reminded that she could do this.

Light will shine no matter how manipulative the shadows, she told herself.

She raised her wand, her arm taught, her mouth set in a determined line, as the Dementors inched ever closer, their gaping mouths wide and unforgiving.

"Expecto Patronum."

Light filled the corridor, her horse erupting fearlessly from the tip of her wand.

* * *

"Mr Prime Minister?" The voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt was low. "Why have you called me here?"

"I…" The Prime Minister felt his knees begin to shake. "Nick Fury, he's in charge of the Avengers, he needed to know-"

"Needed to know what?" Shacklebolt said sharply. "What did he need to know?"

"I need to know about a 'secret' war of yours," Fury interjected, standing up from the posh chair that he had been sitting on. "It's become a matter of international security."

"International security?"

Fury didn't even blink at the scepticism in Shacklebolt's tone. Come to think of it, the Prime Minister thought, he hadn't even blinked as Shacklebolt had stepped out the flames. He couldn't help but fell the tiniest bit impressed. The first time that he had seen up, he had fainted. It hadn't been pretty.

"Ginny Prewett," Fury enunciated. "You heard of her?"

"I may have," Shacklebolt said slowly, his eyes glittering knowingly. "But first, before we move onto such matters, it might be prudent for us to give introductions, seeing as, and these words are from a very trusted friend of mine, we'll be working together in the future."

"Is that so?"

"Indeed it is." Shacklebolt sat down and turned to the Prime Minister. "Mr Prime Minister," he said, "might I borrow your room for an hour or so? I can assure that I'll leave the exact way that I came."

The Prime Minister could do nothing but nod ungainly and he stepped out of the room – his own office – in embarrassment, feeling like a child who had no place in an adult conversation.

* * *

Ginny sank to her knees, her breath harsh in her chest, exhaustion beginning to overwhelm her, and her wand clattered to the floor. She could feel Steve's silent awe – or was it disgust? Horror? – from beside her and she pushed herself back to her feet with a groan, her legs unsteady underneath her as she swiped her wand back into her hand.

The Dementors were gone. For now and she made a mental note to get the closest Wizarding authorities involved as soon as she was possibly able.

She hobbled, wincing, towards the three whimpering bodies and laid a hesitant hand to Wanda's knee. She was deathly cold. Pietro, she saw, looked just as shaken, just as traumatised.

They shouldn't have had to experience this. They had suffered through so much already.

"We have to get them out of here," she said, watching Steve carefully. The solider seemed to jump into action at her words and he shot her a meaningful stare. Ginny felt a wave of appreciation for the super soldier. His silent acceptance meant more to her than he knew. "When you get them back to the plane, though, you're going to need to give them chocolate. You're going to need to keep them warm and you're going to need to keep them hydrated. I'll be back as soon as I can and I'll see what I can do, but until then…" she trailed off and flushed, only then realising that she had taken Steve's own role away from him. But her said nothing, staring at her only with a piercing, curious stare.

"So," he said eventually, supporting a blank faced Clint, "you, uh, got any more tricks up your sleeve that I should know about before we take them up thirteen flights of stairs?"

Ginny gave him a small, tired smile and unbuckled her utility belt, carelessly removing the other bits and bobs that were attached to it. "Yeah." She pointed her wand at it and the thick band glowed a faint blue.

"What does it do?" Steve asked curiously. "And just so you know, this doesn't mean that I've let you off, because trust me, there will be a talk and it will be a very, very long one. But like I said before, I believe in magic, if whatever," he gestured a hand towards her, his blue eyes serious, frank, "that was, was magic. But if it was, I see it everyday."

Ginny nodded at him in silent recognition, before answering his original question. "It'll take you back to the plane when you touch it – it may or may not be pleasant. I'll stay here and make sure that there are none left, and then I'll head back to the upper levels. Tell the others to meet back at the plane. I'll be there as soon as this is taken care of."

* * *

 **Here it is, my lovelies. I hope that I did it justice. The aftermath of what Ginny has done will be coming very, very soon.**

 **IMPORTANT: I am horribly busy this week (I am graduating and singing and there are so many rehearsals that it's not even funny) and I don't know whether or not I'll be able to post this coming Sunday. I will try my best, my very, very best to make sure that you guys get something, even if it's 1000 words, but there are no guarantees. Please don't kill me.**

 **Also, please vote in the superhero name poll! There are some awesome names that you guys have come up with!**

 **Right, so now I shall get onto the usual things. First up, we passed 700 followers! I am literally blown away and incredibly flattered, so thank you to all! Second, thank you to all of my readers, reviewers, favourites, and follows! You are all awesome.** **To my guest reviewers, Katelyn, Al, Guest, Katrina, and Aromatictruth. Thank you all so much for your lovely words! They are all highly appreciated. I hope that you all enjoyed today's chapter!**

 **If any of you spotted any mistakes, please message me and I shall fix them.**

 **Also, special shout out to _silverscripter_ , an awesome reader who drew a fantastic sketch of Ginny's potential superhero costume. You should definitely go and check it out. The link is on my profile to anyone who is interested. **

**And I met Nick Blood (Hunter) and Luke Mitchell (Lincoln) from Agents of Shield and it was awesome. (I even got a few free pictures with them).**

 **Anyway, I hope that you all have a lovely week and I apologise for this very long A/N!**

 **HauntedCinders**


	24. Chapter 24

**This chapter is dedicated to the victims of the Orlando shooting and to Christina Grimmie, a voice who will never be forgotten.**

 **We will never forget any of you.**

* * *

Aus Steinen, die einem in den Weg gelegt werden, kann man schönes bauen.

You can make something beautiful out of the stones that were once in your way.

 _Goethe_

* * *

Kingsley liked to think that he wasn't a stupid man. He had succeeded in Hogwarts, had worked his way up in the Ministry. He had done exceptionally well on his N.E.W.T.'s. He had been a close confidant of Dumbledore and a dedicated member of the Order of the Phoenix.

With curses that he had invented, he had brought Death Eaters to their knees.

But seeing the man that was sitting before him, Kingsley was surprised to realise that this man, this man with an eye patch and a cloak as black as night, might be a little bit smarter than him. Only a little bit. But it was enough to put Kingsley on his guard. He was going to have to watch his words here, he mused grimly.

"Speak," he demanded, the timbre of his voice resonating throughout the Prime Minister's office. "I will not waste my time here, nor will I waste my words. Who are you?"

The man raised a single eyebrow. If he was surprised or even nervous at Kingsley's unconventional appearance, he didn't show it and Kingsley felt a glimmer of respect for the scowling man. "I thought that you said that you wouldn't waste your words," he drawled. "My name's Nick Fury."

Kingsley was briefly quiet, his dark eyes evaluating Fury's form. The man gave off an air of danger, of quiet deadly confidence, and even though the man – Nick Fury – had given his name, he had sacrificed nothing else. "Kingsley Shacklebolt. You say that you know someone named Ginny Prewett. What do you know of her?"

"Everything, yet nothing at all. I get the feeling, however, that you know more than enough."

Kingsley tilted his head. "Perhaps I do. Perhaps I do not. Perhaps you should elaborate."

"Maybe you should follow your own advice."

Kingsley smirked and stood from his seat, gazing into the stone fireplace. The fireplace, interestingly enough, had only been built to accommodate the Ministers of Magic. "Do you believe in magic, Mr Fury?"

"I've seen aliens come from a hole in the sky," he replied dead panned. "I've seen a girl play with some of the most powerful people on this earth as though they were puppets in a play. Magic isn't so far-fetched."

"No?" Kingsley spun around in interest. "And what about witches and wizards and all manners of magical creatures?"

Fury shrugged mockingly. "I did already tell you about the aliens, didn't I?"

Interesting. Perhaps, if Kingsley did decide to reveal the truth to him and not erase his memory, he would be able to cope with the knowledge of there being another world after all.

"Why are you here?" Kingsley asked finally.

"For information on an agent of ours, Ginny Prewett."

"Why?"

"Because she's a potential threat to a group of very powerful people."

Kingsley barked a laugh. "A threat? Mr Fury, while you may be right about that, I can assure that she is not an enemy to your people."

"Who is she?"

"She is not your opponent."

"She a spy?"

Kingsley snorted. "She works only for herself. Trust me, I tried to recruit her. I didn't succeed. She is very much her own person."

Fury's one eye burned. "And you? Who the hell are you? You turn up out of a raging green fire and then you claim to know a girl who has been pulling the wool over my agents' eyes ever since she showed up."

"To put it simply," Kingsley interrupted, a smirk playing at his lips, "I'm a person whom you don't want to piss off."

Fury snorted. "Likewise." He got to his feet. "Do you know who I am, Mr Shacklebolt?" He spat the name as thought it was an insult. "I am the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.-"

"S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Fury paused and Kingsley felt a bolt of satisfaction run through him at the man's hidden confusion. Whatever S.H.I.E.L.D. was, he had the feeling that Fury was surprised that he didn't recognise the name. But then and again, he had no reason to.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is, or was," Fury said slowly, "a global intelligence agency that was designed to protect the earth's inhabitants from both unseen and paranormal threats."

Kinglsey repeated the words in his head. An intelligence agency that was designed to protect the earth's inhabitants from both unseen and paranormal threats. And Ginny was working for them. Why wasn't he surprised? But then and again, wasn't she working for the Avengers? Unless S.H.I.E.L.D. was an extension of the Avengers Initiative… Or perhaps it was the other way around?

Kingsley cleared his throat. "And the Avengers? Whom do they work for?"

Fury bristled at his question; this was supposed to be common knowledge. "They're now separate from S.H.I.E.L.D., however, the two groups were closely connected in the past."

"Interesting," was all Kingsley replied. "So, you've come about Miss Prewett, correct?"

"I'm glad that we got that established," Fury said dryly. "Now are we gonna talk or keep bantering?"

"Oh, don't you worry, Mr-"

"Director."

"- _Director_ Fury. We are definitely going to talk. How about you tell me something that I want to know and then I tell you something that you want to know? Deal?"

Fury's eye glittered. "Deal. How about I go first." It wasn't a request. "What are you?"

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "A wizard, _Director_ Fury. I am a wizard."

"A wizard," Fury's said sarcastically. "A wizard at what? Computers?"

Kingsley smirked. "My turn for a question," and he leaned forward. "The Avenger, the Scarlet Witch, how did she receive her powers?"

"Experimentation via a sceptre that is literally out of this world," Fury snapped. Kingsley didn't miss Fury's clenching fingers. "And you say you're a wizard. A wizard at what?"

"Magic," Kingsley replied with ease. He was enjoying this. "In fact, I am the Minister for Magic here in England. It's a position that's quite deman-"

"Magic," Fury snorted. "You expect me to believe that magic exists."

"Well, you said that you wouldn't be surprised," Kingsley said carefully. "And you were the director of an organisation that dealt with the paranormal, am I right?"

Fury was silent.

"Then how could you be-"

"Prove it," Fury dared, abandoning their little game.

"I already did," and Kingsley gestured towards the fireplace with a small smile. "I arrived here via the fireplace. Surely that's proof enough? Actually," he snickered inwardly to himself at the thunderstruck expression that Fury was trying not to show, "seeing as we're now on the topic of magic, I would like to propose an idea to you. Don't worry – it involves your person of interest and promises a full explanation. I hope that you don't mind if I bring some other individuals in on it as well?"

* * *

Hermione sighed in irritation and she ran a hand through her frazzled hair, her gaze distractedly landing on the pale blue walls of her office. Those files had taken hours to arrange and now all of her hard work, her precious hours spent on organisation, had been wasted. She clenched her fists underneath the table. And now, an intern, had ruined it all. She brought her gaze down to intern in question and smiled artificially at the blonde.

She could deal with this, Hermione told herself. She could deal with this. Her work might be ruined and her hours wasted, but she could deal with this. Couldn't she? She swallowed hard.

"Um," the intern – Georgiana Frestle – murmured nervously. The blonde's hands were wringing in front of her robes. "I… I didn't mean it. Honestly. I was just trying to summon the one file, but then…"

"The spell didn't work correctly. Yes, I know," Hermione said, her voice strangled. "Accidents happen. But you do realise, that this is a problem that can't easily be fixed with magic, don't you? The system that I had in place was very exact."

"Yes," Georgiana whispered. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Can-can you fix it?"

Hermione tilted her head and closed her eyes briefly. Control, she told herself. Control is key. "Eventually, yes. I'll be able to make it work again. But you and I are going to do it together, understand? That way, if this ever happens again, you'll be able to fix it yourself."

The blonde went slightly paler. "I understand."

"Report back to my office in a few minutes, all right? The sooner that we fix this, the better it will be for everyone in this Department."

Georgiana scurried away, her head down, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment and distress, and Hermione leant back in her chair tiredly. Despite having been in the department for over a month, Georgiana was continuously proving herself to be incapable of the small jobs that she was given. Last week, she had done something with the post; Hermione had been receiving love letters that were meant for someone named Francisca all week. The week before that, Georgiana had turned up late for all but one day. And this week… Well, she had essentially ruined their entire filing system.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione jumped at the sound of her name and glanced towards the door, smiling as she saw Percy enter her office. "Percy," she greeted. "How are you?"

"Better than you, if the mess outside is anything to go by," Percy replied honestly and they both grimaced.

"True. Did you need something?"

Percy nodded. "I came here to tell you that the Minister wants to speak with you urgently."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Did he say why?"

Percy simply shrugged. "You know how he is."

"All right, then," she said, getting to her feet and stretching. "Where is he?"

"The Prime Minister's office. He wants you to Floo there directly."

Hermione paused in her movements, her eyes widening. The crisis outside was temporarily forgotten. "He what?"

"He wants you to Floo directly to the Prime Minister's office," Percy repeated patiently. "Seeing as Shacklebolt is the only one with a direct line to the Prime Minister's office, would you like me to escort you?"

"I…"

Hermione's mind was whirring. Why was she required at the Muggle Prime Minister's office? Perhaps something had happened?

"Sure," she said distractedly, smoothing down her hair. "Do I need to take anything?"

Percy contemplated her question. "I don't think so. The owl that I received just said to notify you, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and," his face twisted, "Malfoy. I've already sent them all messages. If they've read them, then they should be arriving any time as well."

"Even Malfoy?"

Percy turned his nose up. "Yes, but don't ask me why."

"Okay, then," Hermione muttered and she picked up her dark coat, following Percy out of her office. "I just need to do something first," and she glanced over at one of her co-workers. "Marlene!"

A brunette looked over at Hermione and frowned. "Hermione," she said, stalking over to her. "I swear. You need to fire that Georgiana What's-her-face before any other disaster happens."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "I've already been thinking about it."

Marlene pursed her lips. "Well, don't think. You need to _do_ something about it. It's getting ridiculous. Anyway, did you call me over for something?"

"Yes, actually," Hermione said slowly, gesturing to Percy helplessly. "I received an unexpected call. Do you think that you could look after the department while I'm gone? I have no idea how long I'll be. It," she winced, "could even be days." One could never be too sure when it came to the Minister for Magic.

Marlene shot her a curious look, but didn't ask Hermione any probing questions. "I can do that. So long as I get paid overtime," she added half-jokingly on the end.

After her brief conversation with Marlene, Hermione left the Department of Magical Equality and followed Percy through the winding halls of the Ministry. When Hermione had first started at the Ministry, she had thought that she would never learn her way around the massive, somewhat broken labyrinth. But over time, she had learnt her way around, no longer needing to ask for directions to so-and-so's office or Gregory Belheart's Department. Yet, there were still parts that were unknown to her, still secret passageways and Departments that she wasn't allowed to enter.

It was one of the things that she admired about the Ministry; its ability to keep secrets was phenomenal.

"Here we are," Percy said proudly as they came to a slow stop in front of Kingsley Shacklebolt's door. "Now we just need to wait for the others to arrive."

* * *

Steve was sitting outside of Ginny's cell, analysing her through the one-way glass. There was a gash on one of her cheeks and her hair that had been tightly braided before they had left on a mission that had been doomed from the beginning, was coming out. There were dark rings of purple under her brown eyes and she sighed in exhaustion. Whatever she had done back at the compound had really done a number on her, Steve thought, and he turned back to where Natasha and Maria were standing.

They were both frowning.

"Run me through it again," Natasha demanded and Steve almost rolled his eyes. He didn't know how many more times he needed to tell the same story.

"You've already heard it. Three times."

"Well, I want to hear it again. What did she do down there?"

"She saved my life and the lives of Wanda, Pietro, and Clint," Steve said grimly.

"Yes, but from what?" Maria insisted. "Pietro, Wanda, and Clint are still all down in the infirmary; it's not like they can say anything right now. At the moment, you're the only one who knows what happened and we need to know."

"And I've already told you," Steve replied irritably. "Several times. It got cold. Ice began to creep up the walls. The whole place felt… desolate." He left out the part of the memory that had brutally invaded his mind. He didn't feel like explaining what it felt like to be drowned, to be tugged relentlessly down into the icy water to either Maria or Nat. He somehow got the feeling that they wouldn't understand.

"The lights had flickered out and it was all but pitch black down there, but I for a moment, I thought I saw," Steve hesitated, "I thought I saw something moving, something in the shadows..."

"You didn't mention that before," Natasha interrupted with a glare.

Steve shrugged unapologetically. "Didn't see a reason to and then I saw… something being sucked away from Clint and Wanda and Pietro. I don't know what it was, but whatever they lost or whatever it was that happened to them…" Steve didn't need to finish the sentence. They had all seen the consequences of what had happened to the three Avengers.

As soon as they had been teleported back to the jet, Steve had made sure that they had been bundled up in blankets; for him, the plane ride back home had been far too long. Wanda had been crying silent tears, Vision hovering anxiously at her side. Pietro had said nothing, but the light in his eyes had dimmed and Steve hadn't been oblivious to his constantly clenching hands and the tapping fingers that were a blur. Clint, though, Clint had been the worst. He had sat stoically on one of the seats, his arms folded across his chest. He had said nothing. He didn't even move. Even Nat hadn't been able to get through to him and not for the first time, Steve had wondered what sort of disgusting terrors Ginny had banished from the underground compound.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Ginny's voice echoed out of the speakers and all three of them glanced at the agent through the glass, their conversation briefly forgotten. "I think I've proved again and again that I, while perhaps dangerous, am not actually out to get any of you. And I never lied, for your information. Omitted the truth? Absolutely. But everything else? That was true. All of it."

Maria shared a sidelong glance with Natasha. "Think that we can trust her?"

Natasha faltered. "Yes," she said finally. "I'm pretty sure we can." She turned to Steve. "If what Steve said is accurate, then we have a lot to be thanking her for. Did she say anything to you before, you know, all of this happened?"

Steve nodded absently, his gaze focusing on the redhead in the cell once again. "She asked me about magic. She wanted to know whether or not I thought that it existed."

He knew that he had told Ginny that magic, after everything that he had witnessed, after everything that he had been through, wouldn't faze him. The experiment that he had undergone had been a scientific breakthrough. The tesseract had been an unknown energy source that was derived from the powers of gods. He had seen them die. He had seen them come back to life.

 _Bucky_.

He had fought aliens, survived conditions that would have killed anybody else for over seventy years. He had seen gods, witnessed Wanda and Pietro in action. He knew about the Inhumans and the sudden, worrying threat that they posed.

He had seen, he _knew_ all of that. But Ginny had still managed to faze him. He hadn't seen the threat that was so obvious to her, but he had felt the desperation and the cold that had hopelessly filled him up. He told himself that he shouldn't be all that surprised, not after everything that he had seen. But he was.

He hadn't expected her to pull out an engraved baton. He hadn't expected the flare of light and the hypnotising creature that burst forth from it. He hadn't expected to be handed an object that had glowed blue and definitely hadn't expected crashing to the floor of the plane only mere seconds later.

And he didn't even know if it was magic that Ginny had used. Perhaps she was one of the Inhumans? But a part of him was already disagreeing with the thought. An Inhuman had a very specific skill in a particular area and Ginny had demonstrated that she was potentially capable of multiple abilities.

"Do you think that what she did was magic?" Maria asked him carefully, but Steve shook his head.

"I don't know. Maybe. But I don't know what she did. I don't know how she did it, but whatever it is she can do, it's certainly not something that we've ever seen before."

"Well, Cap, something that we finally agree on." Tony Stark's voice floated through the room and each of them turned to face the aggravated billionaire. "So," Tony stalked further into the room, "I know what you said, Cap, and I believe it. I really do. But are you sure that she isn't playing tricks on you? On any of you? From the moment that she's been here, she's been under suspicion. From all of us. How do we know that she didn't set us up? Maybe this whole saving thing was just a ploy, a ploy for her to trust us."

"I disagree," Maria interrupted sharply. "Tony, you know that this facility is incredibly secure. I mean, you're the one who freaking designed it. If anything suspicious had left or entered the building or even occurred, you would have been notified before I would have even known about it. And I've had her on constant surveillance. She's done nothing. Absolutely nothing. And trust me, she isn't computer-savvy enough to make her way through even a simple hack. Look Tony, we're not saying that she's a fantastic, trustworthy person, but I think that she's proven herself today, even though we still have no idea what the fuck is going one. That, however," she spoke over Tony's interjection, "should be cleared up pretty soon. Fury's coming in. I got the message a few seconds ago."

* * *

Hermione heard Draco Malfoy coming from a mile away, his muted complaining echoing down the corridor.

"Honestly," he was grumbling. "This had better be important… Bloody Shacklebolt… I just missed a very important meeting because of this."

"Well," Hermione interrupted his tirade as the blonde came into view. Neville and Luna weren't far behind him. "I'm sure that Kingsley has his reasons."

Malfoy scoffed. "He had better. Anyway, long time no see, Granger, Weasley."

Percy nodded stiffly and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I could say the same to you," she said. "How's business?"

"It's fine," Malfoy replied moodily, fiddling with a ring on one of his fingers. "It would be better if I hadn't missed today's meeting. And you? I heard rumours about some sort of disaster had happened in your Department today on the way up. Something go wrong in that precious nest of yours?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It was an accident," she replied shortly.

"Did you fire them?" He paused a second later. "No, of course you didn't. I would have."

"I know." She peered over his shoulder at the two other figures now steadily approaching from behind Malfoy and waved at them. "Luna, Neville."

"Hermione," Neville nodded. "Malfoy."

"Hello," Luna smiled. "So you got the Minister's message as well?"

Malfoy sighed rudely. "Well, that's why we're all here, isn't it? We don't get together all that often, Lovegood."

"Excuse me," Percy intruded, unlocking the Minister's door. "But you really should be going. The Minister has no doubt been waiting long enough as it is."

Malfoy opened his mouth to retort something, but was silenced at Hermione's sharp jab in the ribs with her elbow. He settled on an icy glare instead, as the five of them walked into the room.

"Like I said," Percy was saying, digging out some Floo powder, "the Minister is in the Prime Minister's office and that is, as I'm sure you've already realised, the exact address that you must go to." He began shoving powder in each of their hands and all but pushed Neville up to the hearth. "Quickly, quickly," he said impatiently, only nodding in satisfaction once Neville had disappeared. Luna and Draco followed soon after.

"Right, Hermione," he said briskly. "It was lovely to see you again. You should come over some time soon. Dad would certainly appreciate it."

Hermione smiled a small smile. "I should. It was nice to catch up. How's Danika?"

"Radiant," Percy beamed uncharacteristically before scowling at her good-naturedly once again as he pushed her into the fireplace. "Safe travels," she heard him say and she nodded.

"Bye Percy. Prime Minister's office." And she was instantly smothered in blinding ash and green flame.

Mere seconds later, she stepped out of the fireplace, only slightly disorientated as she dusted herself off; Floo had never been her favourite method of travel.

She stepped further into the room. The Prime Minister's office was a square space, with cream coloured walls and expensive, plush furniture. A table sat off to one side and it was a cluttered mess, with a used coffee mug and pieces of paper scattered all over its surface. Portraits and paintings lined the walls and the numerous bookshelves that dotted the room were stacked with numerous books and files. On a comfy looking armchair, a man sat, his arms folded, his one eye carefully blank. Hermione's gaze only lingered on him for a moment before she turned to the Minister of Magic.

"Miss Granger," Kingsley welcomed with a curt nod. "At last. Now we can begin. I would introduce you all separately, but something has just arisen. _Director_ Fury here," Kingsley said, gesturing to the man sitting on the armchair, his eyes quietly grim, "has just told me that a situation involving Miss Weasley has just occurred."

"Ginny?" Neville interjected sharply

Luna and Hermione glanced at one another in shared concern.

"Is she okay?"

"There was a Dementor attack in an abandoned facility that her team was infiltrating. Fenrir Greyback was involved. I received her Patronus only seconds ago."

* * *

 **Hello people!  
I'm sorry that I didn't update last Sunday, but life got in the way and I didn't even have 1000 words. Dreadful, I know. On the other hand, graduation was fun. We partied afterwards and the DJ was terrible. Why we spent money on him, I have no idea... Anyway, I can't believe that it's all over! School is finished. What am I going to do with my life?**

 **Anyway, thank you to all of you silent readers, favouriters, followers, and reviewers! You are all amazing. Special shout out to my amazing guest reviewers: Kaley, Becca, Lissa, Ande, and Guest. Your words are all so lovely and kind!**

 **Is anyone else here in Europe going football crazy? I am and it's so weird. I've never been interested in it before. On the other side, though, my parents are thrilled that I'm finally taking an interest. My team is Germany (go Germany! Yay!), mainly because my other nationality isn't competing in the tournament. So, if any of you guys are following the UEFA tournament, then let me know who you're supporting!**

 **On a final note, 'Fiendfyre' is the name that was the most popular! You can now (I think) see the results on my profile if you're curious. If you do want a screenshot of the results, just in case it's not working for you, then message me and I'll see if I can get it to you somehow.**

 **I hope that you all have a great week and until next Sunday!**

 **HC**


	25. Chapter 25

To know what a person has done, and to know who a person is, are very different things.

 _Hannah Kent_

* * *

 _She laughed, the rare sound tinkling through the broken air, as they scrambled playfully over the debris. Another bomb had hit last night, leaving fragments of rock scattered all over the ruined street. If one looked closely enough, they would be able to see the twisted, maze like beauty in their new backyard, but Pietro wasn't one for seeing the beauty in destruction. Especially when it came at such an irreversible price. His fingers clenched at his sides and he felt the soft corners of the photograph that he had hidden inside his shirt press against his skin._

 _"_ _Bet you can't catch me!" his sister giggled, her battered dress catching on one of the sharp edges of concrete._

 _Pietro rolled his eyes in response and dodged a large hole as he chased reluctantly after her. He was cautious to leave the puddles of dried blood untouched. "Not so fast," he joked, clambering after her. "Otherwise, I'll never be able to catch you."_

 _Wanda turned to look at him, her tangled hair flowing in the wind. There was a dimness in her eyes and a sallowness in her skin that made Pietro swallow hard. He had tried to make sure that she always got the food first, that she had access to clean water before him. He had tried to make sure that the bitterness that was constantly surging through him didn't affect her to the extent that it did him. But she was still suffering regardless._

I'll do better, _he promised himself silently._ Mum and dad, I promise that I'll do better.

 _"_ _But you'll catch me anyway," Wanda grinned and Pietro blinked. "You always do, no matter how fast I run."_

 _"_ _Too true," he said, allowing his old smirk to touch his lips as he followed her._

 _He wondered why she was smiling today. It was nearly a year since their parents had been murdered in their own home. Why was she smiling? He told himself not to think too much about it; he didn't get to see his sister smiling very often these days._

 _A whistling sound. Pietro turned his gaze to the sky in curiosity, the sound becoming even higher pitched. It was so familiar. What was it? His eyes landed on the puzzling, black shape falling from the sky and his eyes widened in realisation. Horror flooded his body. His heart clenched anxiously in his chest, adrenaline suddenly thrumming through his veins, and for a moment, it was like time stopped. A bomb. It was a bomb and he could see it falling, falling, falling, to the ground. He could hear the wind shriek around the corners of the shattered buildings, could hear the lingering remains of Wanda's rare laugh. He heard a scream fill the air and he absently realised that it was him, crying for Wanda to get down._

 _It hit the ground and the brief happiness, the short-lived peace that had hung over the stone graveyard, was destroyed._

 _He felt the ground ripple, felt himself get lifted up, felt himself hit the ground and roll at the force of the explosion. Hot air blasted above him and he heard the tell-tale, ear-piercing sound of concrete splitting. Blackness flickered at the edges of his vision, dust and smoke pushing its way into his lungs, but he forced himself to stay awake, as he pushed himself to his knees. Wanda. He had to get to Wanda. If Wanda had…_

 _He didn't allow himself to even think the words._

 _He staggered to his feet, his vision swirling, his ears ringing and he rubbed them irritably. Blood littered his fingers when he withdrew his hand. He coughed as he stumbled through the haze, not knowing where he was going, not knowing where his sister was._

 _"_ _Wanda!" he wheezed. "Wanda!"_

* * *

Pietro's eyes snapped open and he was aware of a voice speaking next to him. A loud, beeping sound pierced the air and he winced. A bomb. There was a bomb. He had to get out, he had to warn the others, he had to find Wanda. His hands were shaking. He didn't know where he was. He must have fallen asleep.

"Mr Maximoff."

There was someone saying his name and his head swung around blindly, looking for the source of the voice.

"Mr Maximoff. I need for you to calm down."

Calm down? How could he calm down? "No," he heard himself murmur. "Wanda. Where's Wanda?"

"You're safe, Mr Maximoff."

"Wanda. I have to find-"

"Wanda is fine. I promise. She's just across the hall from you, but I really need for you to calm down. Otherwise, we're going to have to sedate you and no one wants to do that."

Pietro felt himself nod and he blinked hard, his vision beginning to clear. White lights. Blurring faces. A woman was standing to his right. "Okay." His voice was harsh to his own ears. "Okay. But I need to see her. I have to see her."

The woman sighed. "I understand, Mr Maximoff, but-"

"I need to see her!" He felt his fingers vibrate nervously against the stark sheets. Hospital. He was in a hospital. He heard his heart rate spike on the monitor at the realisation. He hated hospitals.

Hospitals meant… Strucker. The image of the man passed through his mind and he squinted his eyes tightly shut. Bullets. Pain. Loss.

He hated hospitals.

"Mr Maximoff," the woman warned and he felt her touch the skin of his wrist. He twitched away from her fingers. "Calm down."

"I…" The world was spinning and he shifted in the bed. He had to leave. He had to make sure that Wanda was in safe hands. If he was in a hospital, then he had no reason to trust any people in this entire building.

"Melanie, would you grab me…"

He shifted again. Wanda. He had to see Wanda. A second later, he was on the floor, his legs collapsing underneath him. What had happened to him? What had they done?

"Mr Maximoff. Please. I don't want to have to sedate you."

Pietro glared up at the dark haired woman standing above him, a syringe sitting awkwardly in her left hand.

"Then don't. Don't sedate me." The English words were uncomfortable, thick on his tongue. He stumbled to his feet and he breathed in deeply, trying to keep the dizziness at bay. "Where is Wanda? I need to know that she's safe."

The woman stared at him. "Fine," she said curtly. "Melanie? Would you get that wheelchair over there for me?"

Pietro heard himself sigh in relief. They weren't going to sedate him. They were going to bring him to Wanda. Thank God.

"Mr Maximoff, do you know where you are?"

"Hospital," he murmured.

"Which hospital?" the woman stressed.

"I… Just a hospital."

"Do you remember what happened?"

He shook his head and he heard the dark haired woman mutter something to her friend, as they lifted him off the ground and into the chair. He wanted to feel embarrassed, humiliated for not being able to manage such a simple task by himself, but he couldn't bring himself to feel nothing but worry for his sister. They kept muttered to one another as they wheeled him across the hallway and into another small room. His fingers kept bouncing on his thigh.

"Wanda," he whispered, his eyes landing on the small lump on the bed. A man the colour of blood was sitting in an armchair that had been placed by her bed. He knew this man, he recognised suddenly. His name was Vision. Vision could be trusted – he was a part of the… Avengers.

The Avengers. That's right. He had been on a mission for them when this had happened. Everything had been going to plan, until one of their teammates had died. He remembered feeling concern for his friends, but anticipation as he ran, all but untouchable, through the corridors. And then he had felt cold all over, completely lost, alone, abandoned. A white light had managed to break through the darkness and then…

"Wanda?" the woman asked his sister softly and Pietro forced himself out of the memory. He would try and remember more later. "You're brother's here."

The figure on the bed shifted and he found himself looking into Wanda's bleary, empty eyes. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with unsavoury memories. She looked unnaturally frail, not at all like the powerful woman that he knew that she now was.

"Wanda."

"Pietro."

"I was so worried." He heard his voice catch over the words.

"So was I. So was I." And he pushed himself out of the chair before the woman could stop him and he threw himself onto the bed, wrapping his arms around his sister. She was alive. She was going to be okay.

"Do you remember what happened?" she murmured, slipping into their mother tongue.

He shook his head. "Bits and pieces," he replied softly. "Do you?"

She swallowed. "Bits and pieces. I know that we were on a mission and that… something happened. According to Vision, Ginny saved us."

"Ginny?" The image of the redhead came to mind and he felt a sudden concern for her. Her teammate had died on the mission. Was she okay?

Wanda nodded. "She did something. She created a spell, a light of some kind that made the darkness go away. She's in custody."

"In custody?"

The thoughts in Pietro's head were swirling like a relentless, brutal whirlpool. If she had saved their lives, then why was she being locked away?

"Why?" he voiced the question.

Wanda shook her head helplessly. "I don't know." But there was something in Wanda's eyes that convinced Pietro that his sister wasn't telling him the entire truth.

"Why?" he asked again. "You know something."

She pursed her lips. "It isn't my story to tell."

"Where is she?"

* * *

Nick Fury stepped into the New York Foo Centre and resisted the urge to throw up. He glared Kingsley Shacklebolt exited calmly from the grate behind him, followed by the three young adults that he had brought into the Prime Minister's office. He eyed them all suspiciously.

"What the hell was that?" he spat, still not exactly sure that what was currently happening was the real deal. Magic? He was finally going mad. All of this dabbling in the paranormal and associating with gods ad finally made him lose his marbles.

"You, my friend," Shacklebolt said, a twinkle in his dark eyes, "are one of the few Muggles to have travelled by Floo. How did you like it?"

Fury simply glared, his response evident in the tightening of his eyes. Behind Shacklebolt, the blonde man snickered.

"So, Miss Weas- Miss Prewett, I mean, where is she?" Shacklebolt wanted to know. "I would be much obliged if you could take us there."

Fury didn't say anything as he turned on his heel, his black cloak fluttering behind him. He reached for his phone in his pocket and pressed in a number.

"Hill," he demanded. "I'm in New York and I need a car. You got any spare?"

There was a small pause and Fury almost barked a laugh. His second in command was no doubt questioning his methods of entering the country on such short notice. "Sure," she said finally. "Where do I need to send it to?"

Fury stalked through the doors of the Floo Centre and glanced around the loud street, recognising it all but instantly. He rattled off the address to Hill a second later and hung up.

"They'll be here in a few minutes," he said shortly to the small group.

* * *

Ginny's head was slumped on the cold desk and she withheld a yawn as she stared at the large, white clock sitting just above the door. It had been hours since she had stepped into the confining room and the ticking sound was beginning to drive her insane. She wondered if they put those things in a room like this one to cause the criminal to go crazy before questioning.

Because it was definitely getting on her nerves.

No one, besides a nurse, had come to see her, though she had no doubt that they were evaluating her every breath from behind the glass, and she wondered how much longer she would have to wait. Surely they were curious. Surely they wanted to make sure that she wasn't a terrorist as soon as possible. Surely they had more questions than she would be able to provide answers for.

The lock on the door clicked and Ginny turned her head tiredly.

"Miss Prewett."

Well, that was new. Maria Hill had decided to indulge her with a visit and Ginny sat up slowly. "Yes?"

"Director Nick Fury is on his way. In the meanwhile, I thought that you would want to know that the Maximoffs and Clint are making a full recovery in medical."

"Oh." That was… almost considerate. "That's good to hear. Thank you."

Maria nodded and exited the room once again, leaving Ginny to her thoughts.

* * *

 **Sorry for the shorter chapter, my lovely readers! I was hoping to write a little bit more than this. Nonetheless, I hope that you enjoyed it. Maybe it's all of the problems that the recent Brexit has currently caused me and I'm not even British! (I'm a German in Germany who is/was going to go and study in the UK. Trust me, the last few days have not been fun at all, especially as I am now considering going back to Australia, which I didn't really want to do, because it's so far away).**

 **Anyway, thanks to all my reviewers, favouriters, followers, and silent readers! You're all awesome! To my four 'guest' reviewers, randomnoname, and Becca: Thank you so much for all of your support! It's very, very appreciated.**

 **I hope that you all have a lovely week!**

 **HC**


	26. Chapter 26

"What if I fall?"

"Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?"

 _Erin Hanson_

* * *

When Director Fury stalked through the doors with an eccentrically dressed dark skinned man and four others, Maria Hill nearly had a heart attack. She had received Fury's call less than three hours ago, yet here he was, standing before her as though her had never been in England or interrogating the Prime Minister.

Her eyes bugged, her expression betraying her incredulity, and she took a small step towards the group. "Sir?" Her eyes flickered between the others. Two young women, two young men. One grown man. All of their expressions were stony, not betraying anything. She reminded herself to do the same and she felt her features slide into cool indifference. If these people were anything like Prewett… She was going to have to watch herself. They all were going to have to watch themselves.

"What the hell are you staring at me for?" Fury snapped and Maria blinked, her attention refocusing on her boss. "Where the hell's Prewett?"

"Interrogation Room 0-0-9," she reported stiffly. "Who are these?" And she gestured to the others that surrounded Fury.

"They're here for Prewett," he replied flatly.

Maria's gaze flickered back to them and the blonde man smirked at her, his grey eyes icy. Her eyes narrowed before she turned around, beginning to lead them through the winding paths of the facility. She didn't like this. She didn't like this at all. She had no idea who these people were, where they were from, whether or not they were a threat… Yet here she was, leading them around a top secret facility that only a select few knew about. She passed a sidelong glance to Fury, who was broodily marching next to her, but he simply ignored her, his jaw set. He didn't like this any more than she did.

"Here we are," she said finally. "Room 0-0-9. Just knock on the glass when you want out." And she placed her key card next to the scanner, the door clicking open. She stepped to the side and allowed the others to pass through, shutting the door firmly behind them before she could allow their protests and greetings to escape. "Odd bunch," she muttered to Fury as they turned into the observation room.

Fury snorted. "You don't know the half of it."

"Will we get a full story?"

His lips pursed and he quietly greeted Natasha and Steve. Pietro, despite his attempts to get in and see Prewett, was no longer in the room, a fact that Maria was more than grateful for. "Not sure."

"Do _you_ have the full story?" Maria stressed.

His silence was answer enough and she twisted to face the glass in vague annoyance, blocking out the sounds of Steve and Natasha's conversation as she focused on the group in the room. The blonde that had smirked at her was leaning casually against the wall, his platinum hair glinting under the harsh lighting. Maria recognised the deceptive position all too well. She was going to have to watch him; out of all of them, he was potentially the most dangerous, perhaps along with the eccentrically dressed man who was speaking to Prewett in a low, lilting tone. She strained to hear their conversation.

"Greyback?" Ginny muttered, playing absently with a strand of hair.

"The closest authorities here have been notified. I haven't heard back from them yet, but when I do, I'll be the first to go."

Ginny nodded. "Good."

"And the Dementors?"

"Same thing."

"All right."

There was silence in the room. "Are you okay?"

It was the fluffy haired brunette who had spoken and Maria zeroed in on her. Not as dangerous as the blonde man, she decided, but there was an edge to her posture, a tense frown on her face that made Maria decide that she was no pushover either.

"Tired," Ginny replied softly. "I hate Dementors."

The blonde scoffed and pushed himself off from the wall. "I think that you would have a problem if you liked them, Weasley."

Ginny rolled her eyes and Maria saw her fingers twitch on the table. "No one asked for your opinion, Malfoy."

"Well, you got it anyway. I don't here anyone else here complaining."

"Shut up, Draco." It was the brunette who had spoken once again.

"Do you know any of these people?" Maria heard Natasha ask and Maria turned around to face the others, no longer listening to the conversation inside the room – the recorder would pick it up anyway.

"No," was Fury's cold reply.

"So you just let them in. No questions asked."

"Don't school me, Natasha," Fury said sharply. "Believe it or not, I didn't have too much of a choice."

Natasha scoffed. "Of course you had a choice! You didn't have to deliver them here! Now the whole base has been compromised!"

"You think that I don't know that, Romanov? Trust me, it's all that I can think about, but trust me when I say that we need these people on our side."

"Uh huh," Natasha sneered. "And just who are these people, Nick? And why the hell-"

"I think you already know." Fury's voice had gone deathly quiet. "You've heard the reports from Rogers, from Barton, and from the twins. Whatever happened down there was something that we've never seen, never dealt with, never heard about before. But somehow," he pointed at the glass, "Prewett in there, stopped it. And these people? They are just like her. Powerful and dangerous. We need them, but they don't need us. So, play nice," he growled.

"Or what?"

"Or we end up with nothing or them being our enemies and I'm afraid that I really don't like either option."

* * *

Wanda shivered and pulled the blankets on her bed slightly more firmly around her shoulders. It had been hours since the attack on the base, hours since those… things had invaded her soul, but she still felt cold, still felt the mind numbing after effects of her darkest memories being played like a film. Pietro hadn't spoken of what he had seen, but Wanda knew that he would tell her when he was ready. Just like she would tell him when she was ready.

Wanda looked at her brother, who was pacing relentlessly around her room. Ever since he had been barred entry into Ginny's cell, it was all he had been doing and Wanda was beginning to go slowly insane at his hurried steps and his constant muttering. Pietro had never been very good at handling stress.

"Would you stop?" she snapped finally.

Pietro looked at her guiltily. "Sorry," he muttered and he sat down in the armchair that Vision had vacated half an hour ago. "I'm just-"

"Worried?" Wanda cut in. "I know. So am I."

"I just don't understand!" Pietro said, frustration lining his voice. "She saved our lives. Why the hell have they locked her up in a room for it?"

"You know that it's not about that, Pietro," Wanda murmured. "It's about what she did to save our lives."

Pietro was silent, a frown creasing his forehead. "Do you really think-"

"Yes, I do."

Pietro looked broken and Wanda sighed, leaning back against the pillows of her bed. Her brother had always worn his heart on his sleeve and the fact that Ginny hadn't told him something so important, something so significant, was hurting him. "So, she's like us then? Enhanced." She wasn't surprised at his bitterness.

She shrugged. "I don't know what she is," she lied. "But she is… something else." Someone else, she finished privately.

Pietro got to his feet once more. "I don't understand! Why didn't she say anything? We could have looked after her, trained her, helped her… I thought that she trusted us."

"We all have secrets," Wanda replied softly. "Some more dangerous than others. Maybe she thought that she would put us all in danger if we knew or maybe she simply didn't want to be seen only for what she could do? We don't know her circumstances, only her actions."

Pietro's gaze snapped to Wanda and she lowered her eyes, cursing the fact that Pietro was able to read her so well. But then and again, he always had been able to. "What do you mean?"

Wanda shifted on her bed. "Do… Do you ever regret what we did? At the time, it felt right, but now? To me…" she swallowed, staring at the ceiling, "it feels like a burden. I'm not like you. When people look at you and what you can do, they gasp in awe. But when people look at me, they see a… a monster." Her sheets rumpled around her clenched fists. "They don't see anything other than this," and she twisted her fingers, a small, unpredictable ball of light floating in her palm. "I am-"

"You are not a monster," Pietro said sharply. "You are my sister. Your favourite colour is red. You used to dance ballet when you were young and hated stepping on the spiders that kept turning up in our apartment. You always beat me in maths, no matter how much I studied, and you always wanted to be a nurse after one of those world healthcare organisations came to talk to us at school. Wanda," he zipped to her side, his warm hands engulfing hers, "you are not a monster. Look at me. Hey, look at me."

Wanda reluctantly looked.

"Wanda, you are my sister. You will never be a monster. You are much too good for that."

"It just makes me wonder, you know. After everything that we've been through and everything that we've done."

There was a knock on the door and they both glanced towards it, Wanda calling out a quiet, "Come in."

Vision poked his head around the door. "There are a number of people who have arrived to see Miss Prewett. They're demanding that all of the Avengers come and gather in the upstairs office."

Wanda and Pietro shared a look and they both got to their feet. "This talk is not over," Pietro warned and he disappeared from the room, leaving Vision and Wanda to walk up together.

"You appear troubled, Wanda," Vision said hesitantly as she closed the door to her room behind her.

"When am I not troubled?" she asked with a wry smile.

"Is it still the after effects?"

She shrugged. "In part, I think."

"And the other part?"

Wanda shrugged again. "I'm not so sure yet."

The upstairs office was light and airy and Wanda was surprised at the amount of people that had filled it when she walked in with Vision. Stark and Rhodey were positioned off to one side, whispering to one another. Steve, Sam, and Natasha, on the other hands, were seated at the large, oval table; Maria and Fury were sitting opposite them. Pietro, contrary to everyone else, was sitting by himself, his eyes flickering suspiciously between Ginny and the five other guests that were placed on the other side of the room.

Barton wasn't there and Wanda wondered as to whether or not he had flown home. He probably had. Wanda wouldn't blame him for it and she made a mental note to call him later.

"Is this everyone?" a dark skinned man, dressed in bright orange robes, asked and Wanda stared at him curiously. There was an air of power around him that Wanda couldn't quite place.

"Everyone that counts," Fury nodded and he gestured to the seats that surrounded the table. "Sit. I get the feeling that we're going to be here for a while."

* * *

Ginny barely heard the introductions. She didn't need to hear them anyway and she leant back in her chair, closing her eyes briefly. Merlin, she was tired. So, bloody tired. Hopefully this whole discussion wouldn't take more than an hour and then she could go to bed and sleep off the fatigue that the Patronus charm had always given her.

Patronus charms had always been difficult for her, even when she had first attempted one back in fourth year in Dumbledore's Army. Harry had always made them look so easy…

Hermione nudged her in the side and Ginny's eyes flew open, her vision taking a second to clear.

"What?" she hissed. She flushed in embarrassment a second later, realising that everyone's focus was on her. "Sorry." She cleared her throat. "I, uh, could you repeat that please?"

Hermione shot her a concerned look, but Ginny waved off her concern. "They asked you what you wanted to be addressed as. I mean, we know you as Ginny Weasley and they… they know you as Ginny Prewett."

"Oh." Ginny blinked. "Well, either works I suppose. I think that everyone will know who you're referring to regardless."

Across from her, Nick Fury – or at least, that's who Ginny assumed that he was – nodded firmly. He was a daunting looking man, what with his eye patch and all, but Ginny didn't really think that it was the eye patch that gave him his intimidation factor. Instead, it was in the way that he held himself, distant and calculating. Not a man to be crossed, Ginny thought grimly. Not at all and she pinched herself on the arm to keep herself awake. The only way that she was going to be able to survive this, was to keep her wits about her and she wasn't going to be able to do that if she was half asleep.

"Am I the only one left?" Kingsley questioned, his steady stare flicking around the room. "Good." He got to his feet. "In that case then," he said slowly, a smirk sitting upon his lips, "my name is Kingsley Shacklebolt and I am the Minister for Magic."

Silence reigned in the room and Ginny choked back a laugh at the expressions of those on the opposite side of the table.

"Magic," Stark said dead panned. "Are you serious?" He turned to Fury. "Is he serious? Are you sure that he hasn't been dragged out from some sort of mental asylum? Because we all know that magic-"

"Is a plausible idea, Tony," Steve finished for him sharply.

"Not really what I had in mind," Stark muttered.

"Come on, Tony, you have to admit that it's at least reasonable," Rhodey said quietly. "We live in a world that was invaded by aliens, that has Inhumans, that has frickin' gods. We can't truly be naïve enough to think that there's nothing else out there."

Tony glowered. "Point taken. Doesn't mean that you're right, though." He switched his attention back to Kingsley. "Okay, so we say magic really exists. Prove it. Or can you not do that?"

Malfoy scoffed and Ginny saw his eyes glitter. She winced internally. "Who are you again?"

"Tony Stark. Why, do you want an autograph?"

Malfoy smiled a shark's smile. "Why, do you want to be turned into a peacock? Although," he paused, "to be honest, you're doing a pretty good job of that without my help. A couple of feathers may not go amiss though…"

Some of the others snickered and Ginny couldn't help the amused smile that tugged at her lips. "You could do that?" Sam interrupted, ignoring Stark's glare.

"And more. Almost anything, except, maybe, beat death. But then and again, even that claim isn't entirely valid."

"And at the moment," Tony interrupted coolly, "neither is yours. I don't know about the rest of you, but I still haven't seen any supposed 'magic' happening around here."

Ginny sighed and dug her wand out of her pocket, slamming it on the table. A few sparks tumbled weakly from its tip. "You want proof?" she demanded, raising an eyebrow. "Well, here's your first bit of proof. This is my wand. We all have them. Every witch or wizard, at least in Britain, has one."

"Wow," Stark said flatly. "A carved stick. Nice. You know-"

His voice disappeared. Ginny turned to glare at Malfoy.

"What?" the blonde shrugged. "He was being an asshole and come on, Hermione," he whined. "You know that I could have done so much worse. Now we can all talk in peace."

Hermione rolled her eyes, dug out her own wand and pointed it at Stark, muttering the counter incantation under her breath.

Less than a second later, Stark stood up, glaring at Malfoy, breathing hard. "What the hell did you just do to me?"

"Wasn't it obvious?" Malfoy mocked. "It was a silencing charm. I decided that I would do everyone a favour and shut you up. Luckily for you, Granger came to your rescue." He leaned forward. "Now, if I were you, I would keep my mouth closed until I actually had something of relevance to say. I mean, my wand might just slip and you never know. You could accidentally turn into a peacock."

"Draco," Kingsley broke in sternly, "there will be no need to transfigure anyone into anything. Not today."

Malfoy leaned back in his chair, but the scornful sneer didn't leave his face. "If you say so, Shacklebolt. If you say so."

* * *

 **Sorry guys! Another shorter chapter and I didn't mean to leave it there! The good stuff is coming next chapter. Promise. If you see any mistakes or anything like that this chapter, then I would be glad to hear them.**

 **I also apologise to all of my reviewers; I haven't replied to all of you as of right now, but I will definitely be doing that tomorrow! I've just had a very busy Sunday. So, don't worry! I swear I haven't forgotten about any of you!**

 **Thank you everyone for all of the reads, follows, favourites, and reviews this week! Also, and I cannot believe this, but this story has reached exactly 800 followers. That is so incredible. I never thought that this work would receive so much love, but it has. So, thank you! Further thanks to all of my anonymous reviewers and to the following guests: Cpasz3, Ande, Becca, and Melody. You're all awesome!**

 **If any of you are looking for a good fanfiction to read in your spare time and happen to be a fan of the Marvel series, Daredevil, then I would seriously have to recommend What They Wouldn't do by Ashevillain. It's amazing.**

 **Anyway, I hoped that you enjoyed today's chapter and I hope that you all have a lovely week!**

 **HC**


	27. Chapter 27

But if these years have taught me anything, it is this: you can never run away.

Not ever.

The only way out is in.

 _Junot Diaz_

* * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt was good at explaining things, Ginny decided. He was calm, didn't mind when he was interrupted, and perhaps most importantly of all, he was clear. He explained the Wizarding world, giving them enough information to satisfy their questions, but only giving them the bare minimum at the same time. He touched on magical creatures and Wizarding education. He even delved into a few details of the Wizarding war before elaborating on what happened at the facility.

"So, these creatures," Wanda broke in uncertainly, "these Dementors, they are guards of a Wizarding prison?"

Kingsley nodded once. "Correct."

"Then what were they doing here?"  
"They were most likely rogue," he replied slowly. "Dementors are creatures of dark magic and in some cases, we are not always able to control all of them. They no doubt fled after the end of the Wizarding war and due to the chaos, were either never documented or never found. However, they have been dealt with. I can assure you of that."

"And the other… wizard that was found?" Pietro asked, stumbling over the word. "What happened to him?"

Ginny sighed and got to her feet. All of this sitting was making it too tempting for her to fall asleep. "Greyback has a cell in Azkaban with his name written on it," she muttered. "Trust me. He will be properly dealt with – his crimes during the war are better left unspoken."

Kingsley nodded grimly in agreement. "That is true."

Silence reigned in the small room and Ginny shifted on her feet, stifling a yawn. They had already been talking for over three hours. What more could there possibly be to discuss? Carefully, she glanced across at the Avengers on the other side of the room and wondered if they were as overwhelmed as she was.

Wanda looked blank and was fiddling with her sleeve in obvious irritation. Natasha was stone faced, not a single glimmer of emotion poking through her façade. Steve looked weary, as though he had been suspecting that something like this was going to happen for a long time. Stark was frustrated and resigned, his jaw set, as he accepted that the people in front of him were telling a truth that he didn't want to acknowledge. Fury was frowning. Maria Hill was sighing. Sam and Rhodey were sharing sidelong glances with one another, but Ginny couldn't decipher their meaning.

Pietro… Pietro looked betrayed. She could see it every time that he looked at her, could see the accusation in his eyes. But she couldn't bring herself to feel guilty, to feel remorse about hiding the truth from him; she supposed that a part of her had always felt that he would eventually find out the truth anyway. But he had to understand that there were laws, that she was bound by the Statute of Secrecy; the only reason that Wanda had been told was because Wanda had been unfortunate enough to see Ginny's deepest nightmares.

"So, now what?" Sam said, breaking the quiet that had fallen over the group and Ginny's head snapped up sharply. "You know about us, we know about you. What does this change?"

Kingsley sat back comfortably in his chair. "It changes everything, Mr Wilson. Not for the first time, your world has clashed with ours-"

"You mean that there have been other incidences?"

Kingsley inclined his head. "Of course, but this is the first when it has clashed so obviously and so worryingly. If this group-"

"HYDRA," Steve supplied.

"HYDRA," Kingsley finished, nodding at Steve, "is as dangerous as you say, then we all have a problem. If HYDRA have joined forces with wizards and witches alike and if they know about the existence of magic, then that not only proves to be detrimental to you, but also to us."

The room fell into silence again and Ginny walked slowly over to the window, ignoring the stares that were penetrating the skin on her back. It was early evening, the sun setting in the cloudless sky. It had been a beautiful day, she realised dully. It was a shame that it had been ruined by a mission that had been lost from the start, a shame that it had been destroyed by the death of her partner. She swallowed hard, turning her eyes away from the serenity that was outside the window.

Merlin, he had been such a git. He had been her biggest tormentor, a bully, a bastard. But he hadn't deserved to die, not like he had.

She should have done something. She should have-

"Ginny?" Hermione's voice was gentle in her ear and Ginny flinched away. "Are you all right?"

"I… No," she breathed, calming her breathing, slowing her racing thoughts. She glanced at her friend, not bothering to hide the fatigue and the anguish that was now painted all over her features. "No, not really. I just want this to be over. I want to go-"

"What are you proposing?" Fury's voice filled the room and both Hermione and Ginny turned curiously. "You've told us all of this for a reason. What is it?"

Kingsley paused. "I propose a team," he said finally. "A 'task force', if you will, to make sure that matters like this, matters that conflict with both your people and mine, can be dealt with safely and securely."

Ginny was certain that her mouth dropped wide open, her thoughts whirling as the room burst into a flurry of sound and conversation. A team. A task force. The idea was unbelievable, yet… The idea made sense, especially if incidences like what had happened back at the compound were to become routine.

"Are you serious?" she heard Neville furiously whisper to Kingsley.

"Is this a joke?" Malfoy wanted to know.

"A task force?" Hermione murmured to Ginny. "Like with Dumbledore's Army? I have to admit, though, that the idea isn't totally ludicrous..."

"Isn't totally ludicrous?" Malfoy scoffed. "Of course it is! You do know what Shacklebolt is implying here, don't you Granger?"

"Of course I do," Hermione snapped back. "And it's something that-"

Her voice was lost in Malfoy's taunting reply, Stark's loud questions, and Steve's reluctant acceptance and Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, wishing that she was currently anywhere but here. There were too many differing opinions, too many stifling voices. She couldn't even hear herself think, hear herself breathe and her breath grew tighter in her chest.

She was so, so tired and she found herself reminiscing the place that she used to go to when she had felt this way, the place that she had always welcome in. The place that she had always run away to.

Running away. She snorted.

She hated running away, turning her back on the problems that needed solving, but it seemed that it was something she had become very, very good at. She looked around the room, at the differing faces of the people that she had come to know, and wondered if they would forgive her if she ran away one last time, just for a few hours of peace.

She would return, of course she would, but she needed to be alone. To be in a place that was familiar before she came back and tackled the latest revelation that had just been decided.

And so she let the desperation in, let it overtake her, as she saw her destination in her mind's eyes. She felt her nails dig into the soft flesh of the palm of her hand and winced, as the distantly familiar squeezing, chaotic sensation overtook her entire body.

She didn't even realise that she had arrived until she fell to her knees on the pavement outside of a familiar old, rusty gym in Hell's Kitchen.

 _The Ent Gym_ was printed on the side of the derelict building in large, fading block letters and Ginny stumbled to her feet, staring at the letters in a mix of relief and guilt. She hadn't contacted Connor Andrews, the man that had all but taken her in after her abrupt departure from England, in months.

She looked around herself, shaking her head at the same cars that were parked in the exact same positions on the street, as though she had never left in the first place. The road was empty, devoid of both sound and life, luckily enough for her, and Ginny breathed in the dirty, familiar scent that permeated the air.

Peace.

At last, even if it was only going to last for a few hours.

Her lips twisted wryly as a familiar thought occurred to her.

 _The calm before the storm._ She had better make the most of it.

* * *

Tony stared at the wand that was sitting innocently on the table, remembering the sparks that had exited its tip when Ginny Prewett had slammed it down. Maybe it was a trick? An optical illusion? Perhaps even a creation of science that was so advanced that the technology behind it had not yet been discovered? It was plausible, but at the same time, impossible.

Because he could no longer say that they weren't telling the truth, these people in their odd robes and with their English accents. Not after Ginny Prewett had so abruptly disappeared into thin air. Not after his own voice had been taken from him by the arrogant blonde haired bastard with a wordless swipe of his own wand.

But still, Tony's rational mind, his own sense of logic, denied the existence of magic. There had to be a scientific reason, a cause that could be explained. After all, everything that the Avengers had done, everything that they had witnessed, had appeared to be magical on the surface, but in the end, it had all been scientifically based. Steve's survival came down to the chemical contents of a bottle. The Tesseract came down to a science that Thor always boasted that the scientists on Asgard knew all about. Loki's staff, originally appearing to be magic, was simply another creation of a scientific mind, leading to the formation of the enhanced twins. He was even sure that Thor's hammer was secured by a type of Asgardian science, but he, admittedly, didn't have enough information to form a reasonable conclusion.

But then and again, it could be entirely possible that magic was a science that they hadn't understood yet, couldn't it?

Tony looked at the wand with conflicted eyes. Magic or science? Science or magic? One in the same or two very differing ideas?

Nonetheless, no matter how fantastical or illogical it was, he would be a fool if he were to out rightly protest against Kingsley Shacklebolt's idea. If these people were as powerful as they said that they were, then them being allies was a preferable decision.

His eyes landed on the wand once more and he examined the carved handle carefully, noting the scratches and the wear and tear that had resulted. Maybe it was made of differing compounds that produced the 'magic' and maybe the resulting spell was simply a chemical reaction, taking place inside the wand itself…

Now that, he decided smugly, was entirely possible and he wondered whether Prewett would mind if her nabbed her wand for a little while. The glare from the fluffy haired brunette on the other side of the room, however, stayed his hand.

"So," he found himself saying nonchalantly, breaking the stunned silence that had settled over the room since Prewett's sudden disappearance, "when will Red be back? Because I don't know about the rest of you lot, but I could have a coffee."

"Oh, good," the blonde man from across the room grinned, "I'll have mine black, no sugar."

It was five minutes later that Tony exited the room, scowling as he recalled all of the coffee orders that all of the others had also seen fit to give him.

* * *

A witch. Ginny Prewett or Weasley or whatever it was that she called herself, was a witch. Pietro swallowed hard, as he glared at the spot that Ginny had just evaporated from. It was impossible. It had to be a scheme, some kind of lie, yet here they all were, discussing magic and beasts and a society that wasn't supposed to exist, as though they were discussing nothing more than the weather.

She could have told him. He had thought that she had been beginning to trust him. They were becoming friends. His fingers twitched by his side. How was it that everyone in the world knew his story, yet no one bar a bare few, knew hers?

His eyes landed on the brunette on the other side of the room and Pietro walked boldly over to her, not wanting to take part in the quiet conversations that were taking place around him as Tony fetched their coffee. He was sure that he had seen her before, but he couldn't recall where.

"You," he demanded, "what was your name again?"

She smiled lightly at him. "Hermione Granger." She stuck out her hand and he shook it gingerly. "And you're Pietro Maximoff. I remember. I met you in London."

Pietro's eyes widened in surprise and recognition. That's why she had looked so familiar.

"Is there something you wanted to ask?"

Pietro didn't hesitate with his question. "Where did she go?"

Hermione leaned back against the table and shrugged. "I have no idea. But she'll be back."

"You're not worried?"

Hermione shot him an amused glance. "She can take care of herself, with or without her wand, you know. She always has been very good at that. Although, I do have to admit that I have no idea where she's gone. She'll return when she's ready, though."

"You've known her for a long time, then?"

Hermione nodded slowly, a frown appearing on her forehead. "A very long time. We became quite good friends in school."

"School? A… a magic one?" He winced at the obvious hesitation in his words.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Hermione confirmed with a nod of her head. "The one that Shacklebolt was discussing earlier."

"And did you know? Did you know about this team that he wanted to create?"

Hermione sighed and ran a hand over her frizzy hair. "I suspected, but no. I didn't know. Trust me, I'm as surprised as you are."

"What's it like?" Pietro asked suddenly. "The Wizarding world, I mean?"

"In a word? Dangerous," Hermione said grimly and she drew her own wand, the worn wood sitting in the palm of her hand. Pietro glanced down at it cautiously, taking note of the damage that littered it despite the elegant pattern that had been engraved on it. He wondered if each wand was different for each witch and wizard and he shot a look at Ginny's black wand that was sitting on the table before turning his attention back to Hermione. She pointed the wand towards the window. "The thing about magic," she continued with a slight smile as the each of the glass panes vanished and reappeared again, "is that it's unpredictable and powerful. Every witch and wizard has a particular skill set, every witch and wizard has a different grip on their power. Someone like Ginny or Malfoy over there, who are quite powerful, find it more difficult compared to the rest of us to keep a control on their magic – even a simple spell can have a much larger impact than expected."

"Ginny is powerful?" he asked carefully.

Hermione smirked. "Very much so. I swear to Merlin that you do not want her as an enemy. I once saw her reduce a training dummy into a small pile of ash and send these brilliant bat-bogey hexes at more than one bully at school, let alone what she did during the Wizarding war."

Pietro's breath hitched. "And what did she do?"

"That, Pietro, is her story to tell and not mine."

Pietro nodded slowly. That was fair enough. "And what is it that you do?" he questioned reluctantly.

"Oh," Hermione blinked, "well, I work in a department at the Ministry of Magic back in London. It's dull work, but it's necessary. If Shacklebolt wasn't joking, though, then I'm pretty sure that my life is about to get a lot more exciting."

Pietro sighed and tapped his foot rapidly against the floor. Witches. Wizards. They existed. They were real, no longer a character in a children's story, no longer a figment of the imagination. When Wanda had been younger, she had often pretended that she was a witch; Pietro liked to think that it was a cruel twist of fate that Wanda had given the powers that she had so readily loved to believe were real when she had been a child.

"Why did you really come over here?" Hermione asked softly.

The words cut through his thoughts and Pietro glared at her. "I want to know why she didn't tell. She's been working with us for months, but she said nothing. Why?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm pretty sure that you already know the reason why," she replied sharply. "And if I were you, I wouldn't give her any grief about it when she returns."

* * *

 **Hey guys! I hope that you all enjoyed today's chapter. It was slow, I know, but there shall be action very, very soon!  
Promise.  
But sometimes, the slow stuff is necessary.**

 **If you guys spot any mistakes or anything like that, then feel free to message me!**

 **Thanks to all of my readers, favouriters, followers, and reviewers! You're all amazing. A special shout out to each of my amazing guest reviewers, Yeomeishi, Ande, my 2 guests, Becca, Krishi26, Cpasz3, and Elise! I'm so glad that you're all enjoying the story thus far and all of your words are very much appreciated!**

 **I hope that you all have a lovely week!**

 **HC**


	28. Chapter 28

Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness,

will we discover the infinite power of our light.

 _Brene Brown_

* * *

It was several hours later, late evening, that Ginny found herself standing in front of the facility. The night air was cool and she found herself pulling her combat jacket more tightly around herself. All of the lights were blazing and she took a hesitant step forward, seeing the moving figures throughout the compound, files in their arms, stereotypically serious expressions etched on their faces.

She wondered where her fellow recruits were; they hadn't been a part of the earlier discussion and she made a mental note to talk to them later. No doubt they were confused, anxious about what had happened back at the HYDRA base.

She took another uncertain step forward. None of this should have happened. Greyback should never have been there. Satsii should never have died. The Dementors should have been back where they belonged. But all of those had happened and there was nothing she could do about it. A bitter smile crossed her lips. She was a witch, had access to power that Muggles could only dream of, yet she was just as powerless as they were in a situation like this, because, as much as she wished she were able to turn back the clock, all of the time-turners were under strict regulations and in some sort of chamber deep inside the Ministry of Magic. She sighed.

Fate must have it in for her, she thought wryly. She came to New York to get away from magic, to escape her path, but now it was an even more prominent part of her life than before.

"This was not how it was supposed to turn out," she muttered to herself, and she brushed her fingers through her dishevelled hair, tucking a few strands behind her ear. "Not at all."

Taking a deep breath, she cautiously began to make her way up the polished, white stairs. Even after all of these months, they were still just as clean, just as fresh since the first day that she had seen them. It was a shame that she couldn't say the same for the rest of the facility, as she recalled the sweat stained gym equipment, the unwelcome stains on the floors of the medical bay.

But nothing could stay pure forever. Even these stairs, one day, would become subject to the running of time and no amount of cleaning would be able to erase it.

She walked up to the tinted glass doors and squinted through them, trying to witness the activity that was taking place behind them. But she couldn't see anything and she stepped away from them with a gentle exhale, before lightly tapping in the week's door code and pressing her palm onto a scanner. Seconds later, with a loud beep, they swung open and Ginny entered the atrium of the facility.

It had been weeks since she had seen it, but it still took her breath away, the tall ceilings, the perfectly placed pot plants, the sleek machines on the desks creating a sterile, professional atmosphere.

Her eyes landed on a woman standing behind a marble bench and she raised an eyebrow at her, stifling an amused smile when the brunette's baby blue eyes widened with surprise. They must have fired the other one, Ginny realised dully. That was a shame. Tanya had been nice.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist trilled, her voice unnaturally high.

Ginny tilted her head before she deliberately replied, "No."

"I… Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Ginny said flatly and she stalked up to another set of locked doors, typing in the key code. She smirked to herself as she saw the lady gape at her from the corner of her eye. They probably didn't get a lot of agents enter through the front doors. "And don't bother showing me around," Ginny continued. "I know where I'm going."

She left the blue eyed brunette behind as she wound her way through the corridors, ignoring the few agents her stared at her bedraggled appearance. If they wanted to stare, then she would let them. She was too tired to care anyway, especially after her session at the Ent Gym; Andrews had drilled her for ages before he had allowed her to go out onto the floor and blow off some steam.

It had been refreshing, though, to escape to a place where, at least for a few hours, no one watched with suspicious eyes or corrected her with sharp words. It had made her miss her previous life, when everything had been so much simpler, so much easier.

But if there was one thing that she had learned, it was that peace could never last long. Someone or something always found a way to ruin it and in this case, she only had herself to blame.

"Ginny?"

She spun around at the sound of Hermione's voice echoing through the buzzing hallway. "Hermione."

"I knew that you would come back soon," Hermione smiled in self-satisfaction as she jogged up to her. "The others were sceptical, but I knew that you would come back."

"How were you so sure? It's not the first time that I've run away."

"True," Hermione mused, "but there's never been a time when you didn't come back either, even if it does occasionally take you several years."

Ginny flushed. "So, where are the others?"

Hermione shrugged. "All around the place, which in other words, means that I have no idea. Malfoy went off with Neville and Luna and Sam, I think his name is, to, and I quote, 'explore'. I made them promise that they would keep a low profile."

"A low profile?" Ginny scoffed. "The day that Draco Malfoy is able to keep a low profile is the day that hell freezes over."

Hermione snickered, her eyes twinkling. "You might be right there. So," she crossed her arms, "where'd you go?"

"Place in the city. I needed to... have some time to myself, I guess." Ginny cleared her throat. "And what happened here? Did you guys talk about Shacklebolt's 'idea' a little more?"

Hermione took Ginny's sift change in subject gracefully. "Yes, but we'll discuss it further tomorrow. We figured that the others had had enough for today. Besides, tomorrow isn't going anywhere."

Ginny smiled. "Indeed. And do you think that they're all convinced that we're actually telling the truth?"

"I think that they'll need a little bit more time to fully absorb it all – another reason why we decided to leave further discussions until tomorrow, but I think that we managed to get through to them. Whether or not they trust us, however, is something else entirely."

Ginny and Hermione spent the rest of the evening catching up, talking about harmless, petty things like work back in England and how Puddlemere United were dominating Quidditch with Oliver Wood as their Keeper.

"He's apparently become one of the most eligible bachelor's in all of Britain," Hermione was saying absently, playing with a curly lock of hair as they meandered through the moonlit grounds. "Do you ever miss it, Quidditch, I mean?"

Ginny blinked. Quidditch. Merlin, she hadn't even gotten on her broom in years, let alone play, or even think, about Quidditch. "I, um, I guess that I've never really thought about it."

"Never thought about what?"

Ginny sighed and closed her eyes in irritation. "Quidditch," she muttered.

She heard a gasp of mock horror from behind her and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "How could you not think about Quidditch, Weasley? I thought that you were one of Gryffindor's proud and prized Chasers?"

"I wasn't prized, Malfoy," Ginny shot back, "but I was a player. I don't know if you've noticed, but they key word in the discussion is 'was'. I don't play anymore."

"And why the hell not?"

"Why the hell should I?" she retorted, wishing that he would just go away. "Like I said, I don't know if you've noticed, but I tried to carve a new life for myself here, so of course I didn't bloody play Quidditch."

She heard Malfoy stomping away only seconds later and she grinned. It seemed like her wish had come true after all.

It was only too bad that it only lasted five minutes before he came stomping back.

This time, though, there were two broomsticks in his hands and a triumphant smirk on his face.

* * *

"We need them," Rhodey said stoutly. "We need them on our side."

"I agree," Natasha said, stretching one of her arms out to grab one of the bottles of liquor that Tony had been so kind as to set out on the glass table. She poured some of Tony's priceless Stolichnaya vodka into a small shot glass and downed it seconds later, letting the burning liquid slide down her throat as a warmth settled in her belly. She didn't allow herself to drink often; she was working more often than she was not and she didn't appreciate the lack of control that alcohol presented her with. A person like her had to watch her mouth and even though her resistance to the lethal stuff was exceedingly high, she didn't like to tempt fate.

But today's events had convinced her that she not only deserved it, but that she needed it, so it was with no regrets that Natasha poured herself another shot before downing that one too.

Tony sighed from across her and Natasha's careful gaze flickered to him. He looked exhausted, a stunned glint in his eyes that Natasha was pretty sure that they all had. Witches, wizards, and magic. They hadn't been trained for this. None of them had been trained for this.

"So do I," he conceded and Natasha's eyebrows rose marginally. From the beginning, Stark had been one of Ginny's fiercest opponents and his sudden, but not unwelcome, change of mind was a relief. "If they're as powerful as they say that they are," he muttered, getting to his feet, "then we can't just pretend that they don't exist, especially if their… world starts clashing with our own, because let's face it. If Prewett hadn't been there earlier, doing her voodoo-whatever-the-hell-it-is, we would have lost three members of this team, and one of those members has a family – a wife and kids. We can't come up against a threat like that again without being prepared or without having," he gestured towards the shadows of where the brunette girl and Prewett were standing in the field, "the right people."

There were nods and vague sound of agreement from around him and Natasha found herself joining in, her thoughts darkening as she recalled Clint's hopeless expression, his normally powerful form limp and strangely broken.

The last time that she had seen him look so vulnerable, so wretched, had been when Loki attacked all of those years ago and her hands clenched as she wondered what gruesome memories those dark creatures had brought to the forefront of his mind. Clint had suffered enough, so why was he still paying, eve after all of this time? After all of these years?

She glanced at the clock on the wall. He would be home now, safe in Laura's capable arms, and not for the first time, Natasha wished that she were there with him. Laura was good for him, she would be able to help him, but even his wife didn't fully understand the thoughts, the memories that liked to rip people like them apart. She dug her phone out of her jean pocket and scrolled through the numbers until she came across Clint's home phone number.

"I'm just going out for a sec. I'll be back," she said shortly to the others, as she pushed herself off of the couch and hit the call button, raising the phone to her ear. She could feel their stares on her back as she left them behind, but she didn't really care. They probably knew whom she was going to be phoning as it was.

"Laura Barton." Laura's voice echoed pleasantly through the line, but Natasha could hear the tiredness and concern that ran underneath it. Damn it, she cursed to herself. She should have gone back with Clint.

"It's Nat," she answered quietly. "How is he?"

She heard a faint sigh and the sound of one of the kids playing in the background before Laura replied, "Not good. He's resting, but I haven't seen him this way since…"

"Loki," Natasha finished for her and she cursed to herself again. "Look, do you want me to come over there? I can leave right now if you need me to."

"No, don't. It's okay. From the sounds of it, you need your rest as well, but I'll keep you updated."

Natasha nodded. "All right," she said softly. "If you need me there, though, Laura, then I'm here and I can come right to you."

"I know." Laura's voice was just as soft and Natasha wondered if this event, this latest blow, had pulled Laura to the same precipice that Clint was currently on.

She would go to them tomorrow.

* * *

Ginny held the Cleansweep nervously in the palms of her hands, the polished wood almost unfamiliar against her skin. It looked nothing like the ratty, worn broomstick that she had stashed away in her locked box of things under her bed back in the dorms, but she couldn't help be glad of the fact. Objects like that… they held memories and, she felt her forehead pull into a frown, not all of them were good.

This one, though, was pure, as innocent and as impressionable as a newborn child.

"Where'd you get this?" she demanded, tearing her eyes away to glare at the blonde.

"Don't be an idiot, Weasley," Malfoy replied haughtily, already swinging his leg over his own broomstick. "Now, are you going to get on, or not? You coming too, Granger? I do have another one."

"No thanks," Hermione replied, taking a step back, an amused expression on her face. "The last time that I got on a broom was back in first year and trust me, I do not need a repeat of that event."

Malfoy snorted. "Suit yourself then," he shrugged lightly. "Now, are you going to get on the bloody thing, Weasley, or do I have to force you on there?"

Ginny stared reluctantly at the sleek handle. "I…"

"Come on, Weasley," Malfoy taunted. "Don't be shy."

Ginny rolled her eyes and she finally, impulsively swung her way onto the broomstick.

She didn't allow herself to dwell a second longer and for a moment, as she surged into the air, the world was perfectly still, wonderfully tranquil.

It didn't last, the chaotic currents quickly destroying any peace that she had felt.

She dared to push herself higher, her hands gripping the Cleansweep as the gale tore at her skin, her clothes lashing against her flesh. Her eyes watered uncomfortably. But she couldn't bring herself to care, because for the first time in what felt like years, she was free.

She felt her heart leap in excitement at the realisation, felt the wind whip playfully through her hair, and she heard a delighted laugh tumble from her lips. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, her vision sharpening as she shot through the sky like a rogue shooting star.

* * *

 **Hey guys! I hope that you all enjoyed this week's chapter. I only wrote it today (an example of very, very bad time management, folks), hence it's length.**

 **Thanks for the continuing support from all of you amazing readers, followers, favouriters, and reviewers! You're all amazing!**  
 **Special shout out to my guest reviewers: Ande, Krishi26, Cpasz3, Becca and the two guests!**

 **There will be some Pietro/Ginny action next week guys and here's a short promo:**

It was as though time froze and for the first time since he had met her, Pietro felt like her was finally seeing Ginny for who she really was. Her eyes were alight with a fierce determination, her skin glowing with hidden power, her auburn hair twisting like flame.

She was free, he realised with a start.

Her magic made her free and it made her even more beautiful than before.

 **I hope that you all have a great week!**

 **HC**


	29. Chapter 29

And when she stood, she stood tall. She'll make a fool of you all.

 _The Lumineers_

* * *

When Natasha re-entered the room, Tony was choking on his precious whiskey. She raised an eyebrow at him and glanced across at Steve.

"What's got him all tied in a knot?" she asked dryly.

Steve's eyes were wide as he replied, "I, uh…"

"Broomstick!" Tony wheezed and he gestured wildly towards the window. "Broomsticks! They were riding broomsticks!"

"Okay," Natasha sat down sceptically and leaned her elbows on her knees, "how much has he had?"

"Only two glasses," Steve protested, "but-"

"How does that even work?" Tony muttered to himself. "Quantum levitation? Maybe… No. That wouldn't work. Not unless… I would have to get it in my lab and see how it works…"

Natasha stopped listening, her thoughts turning to her recent phone call. She would have to start packing a few things later this evening to go to Clint's, she mused. It wouldn't have to be much. Only the bare essentials – Clint had actually built a room especially for her years ago and Laura had even furnished it, going as far as to buy her clothing for when she stayed there for long periods of time. But Natasha didn't like impeding on their generosity. They had already done so much – too much – for her, and the more that she allowed herself to exploit their kindness, the larger that her debt towards the Bartons would become.

Clint hated it when she started going on about how much she owed him – how much she owed his whole family – but she didn't care. He was the one who had given her a second chance, a second chance to become someone new, someone better. It was a chance that she hadn't deserved at the time and was one that she probably still didn't deserve either. Absently, she glanced at the bottle of vodka on the table and poured herself another shot.

"How's Clint?" The concern in Steve's soft voice caused Natasha to stare at him quizzically, even though she told herself that she should no longer be surprised at the compassion that he managed to show on a daily basis. She didn't know how he did it without exploding; she wouldn't have been able to last one day.

"He isn't good."

"You're going over tomorrow then." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell him about… Ginny Prewett?"

Natasha tilted her head and picked up the shot glass absently. Ginny Prewett. She had had suspicions about that girl from the beginning and it seemed as though they had been well founded. That being said, however, she had never expected her to hide something as formidable, as dangerous and as fantastical, as this. It was a terrifying secret, Natasha realized, and not for the first time, she grimly appreciated the layers of lies, the delicate intricacies that had needed to be set up in order for the whole ploy to work. She would make a good agent, Natasha thought, if she stayed. A part of her hoped that she would.  
"Yes," she replied finally. "The first thing that he'll want to know is what happened and I won't withhold the truth from him. He deserves to know."

Steve nodded. "All right, then. I'll keep you informed about what happens here."

"Thank you." She downed the shot and slammed the small, elegant glass on the coffee table. Tony glared at her from across the table. "I'll check in before I leave tomorrow," she said, rising to her feet.

Steve nodded again and Natasha abruptly turned around, exiting their common room and leaving Tony and Steve alone.

She knew that now wasn't the time to leave, not after the revelation and the events that had occurred yesterday, but it had to be done. And Steve would keep in touch, she told herself in anxious reassurance.

She rounded a corner, so deep in her thoughts that she almost didn't notice the blonde haired woman who was drifting around the corridor until it was too late. She was one of the witches, Natasha recognised, her eyes narrowing. Luna.

"Can I help you?" Her voice was short, curt even to her own ears.

Luna turned to face Natasha, her big blue eyes wide, her narrow pink lips pursed. "Nargles," she said seriously. "This place is full of them. And wrackspurts. I'm surprised that Ginny didn't say anything," Luna continued dreamily. "She's normally quite aware of that sort of thing, you know." She smiled suddenly. "I'm Luna, by the way."

"Natasha," Natasha responded carefully. "Where are your friends?"

"Oh," she answered, looking thoughtful. "Draco went to go flying with Ginny, and Hermione's outside. I don't know where Neville is though…"

Flying? She snorted softly to herself. Maybe Tony hadn't had as much to drink as she had originally thought.

* * *

Ginny's feet touched the ground and she swung her leg over the broom. Her blood was thrumming in her veins, her eyes bright with an excitement, and a peace that she hadn't felt in years settled throughout her body.

As a child, she had always loved flying. She had flown around the garden with Charlie and Fred and George, trying to keep up with them as they laughed and passed a battered quaffle between themselves. They had taught her the ins and outs, the simple beauty that existed in flying, and she found herself wondering as to why she had ever given it up in the first place.

To be amongst the clouds, to brush the sky, to look down upon the world and see the twinkling lights from the cars and from the cities… It was bone-wrenchingly humbling.

She sighed, the spell broken, as she handed the broom reluctantly over to Malfoy, and he simply smirked at her in response.

"So, was I right?" he asked, as he removed the broom from her hands and shrunk it down.

Ginny looked at him quizzically. "Right about what?"

"It was what you needed, wasn't it? To remember what it was all like?"

Ginny's cheeks flushed. "You're not wrong," she murmured, brushing her now wild hair out of her face. "No, you're certainly not wrong."

And he wasn't. There was a magic in flying that Ginny hadn't found, hadn't identified with, since she had picked up her wand again. But this – this simple act – had awoken it. It had reminded her that, despite magic's inherent ability to destruct, it also had the capability to be stunningly beautiful and gratifyingly awe-inspiring. Her brothers would have loved it, she thought with a sharp pang. Especially Fred.

Malfoy cleared his throat and Ginny blinked, her thoughts scattering, as he tucked the two miniaturised broomsticks into his pocket. His grey eyes were serious, grim. "So… Why'd you come over here?" The question was sharp, unexpectedly abrupt, and Ginny's eyes narrowed.

"Draco," Hermione broke in, "I really don't think that this is the time-"

"And when is there a better time?" Malfoy challenged. "Come on, Weasley? From what I can see, they treat you like you're a bomb waiting to explode. Why'd you stay?"

Ginny glared at him, her earlier feelings of excitement and peace fizzling away. "Because I thought that I had a chance with them, a chance to start a new life."

"And did you get that chance? That new life that you dreamed about?"

Ginny recoiled as though she had been slapped. "I really don't think that that matters, Malfoy," she growled.

"Really?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Because I think that that matters very much." And with that, he turned away, leaving Hermione and Ginny alone under the cover of darkness. A breeze rustled through the trees and Ginny was nearly overcome with a desperate need to go flying again, to become one with the howling wind. But she was here, back on solid ground.

"Ginny, are you-"

"I'm fine."

"He shouldn't have asked."

Ginny hesitated. "He shouldn't have, but he had a right to and in a way," she smiled bitterly, "I'm glad that he did, because now that I think about it, I never really did find what I was looking for." She sighed. "When I came over here, I thought that everything would be different. I thought that I would be able to live without magic, that I would be able to forget, able to start afresh, and for a while," she shrugged, "that's what I did. And in the delusional little world that I had managed to create, I was happy. But the nightmares never left, the call for the magic never disappeared.

"In a way, I suppose that that's why I came here. At the time, I just saw it as an annoyance, something that I didn't want to do, but now that I think about it, I think that it was just some part of me, reaching out for what it had lost." She shrugged and heaved a deep breath, forcing a small, watery smile onto my face. "Sorry. You must be getting tired of me rambling on like a complete git."

"We all need to talk sometimes," Hermione replied simply.

Ginny chuckled. "Thank you, Hermione," she said quietly. "I mean it. Thank you."

* * *

The following morning dawned brightly, sunlight beaming into the conference room. It was a nice day, Pietro recognised. It was a shame that they couldn't be outside, enjoying the warmer weather. He sighed and tapped his foot in irritation against the floor, ignoring Wanda's warning glance that she sent him from the other side of the room. The talks were long and boring and Pietro didn't understand why they were necessary. As far as he was concerned, only two things mattered:

One, was that witches and wizards existed.

Second, was that the magicians in question wanted to start an alliance with the Avengers Initiative, and while he grudgingly agreed that there were definitely agreements and other fundamental pieces of information that needed to be clarified, he didn't see why each person had to be there to listen to the logistics of it.

They had training to do, they had to see the other recruits that were a part of the mission yesterday; as far as Pietro knew, they were still in quarantine, unable to interact or talk with anyone other than themselves. He had to talk with Ginny, whom he hadn't seen since yesterday evening, but who was now leaning, stoic faced and stern, against one of the pristine walls as though she had never left in the first place. She looked tired, he noticed vaguely, dark rings shining like bruises underneath her eyes. Did she sleep at all?

"In that case, Mr Fury," Shacklebolt was saying easily and Pietro shifted on his feet, "I call for a demonstration. You show us what you've got and we'll show you what we've got. It's a fair trade and one that is necessary should this partnership evolve into something useful."

Fury frowned. "Fine," he enunciated slowly. "Fine. We have a simulation room downstairs that would be perfect. How does now sound to you?"

A demonstration. Pietro couldn't help the smirk that lit up his features. Finally, some action.

Shacklebolt chuckled. "'Now' sounds perfect," he replied, his eyes glittering.

* * *

"I'm Neville, by the way," the tall, dark haired man stuck out a hand, as they watched Ginny and the blonde enter the simulation room together.

Pietro eyed it suspiciously. "Pietro Maximoff."

"I thought as much," Neville said lightly. "In the wizarding media, there was a little bit of an uproar caused by you and your sister. If I'm honest, though, it was mainly your sister."

"Wanda?" Pietro said sharply.

Neville nodded. "It was a big deal, you know, how you and your sister, both Muggles, received your abilities. People were wondering wether or not dark magic was involved."

"Dark magic?"

Neville folded his arms across his chest. "Yep."

"What is that?"

Neville hesitated, before he answered slowly, "It's when magic is used for evil purposes. It's powerful and uncontrollable even for the best of us."

"Have you used it?"

Neville shook his head. "No."

Pietro glanced at Ginny, watching as she rolled her shoulders, a small smirk tugging at her lips in response to whatever it was her colleague had said. He felt a small, nasty spark of irrational jealousy flair and he pushed it down viciously. He had no right to be jealous, no right to be jealous of a man whom he barely knew. But then and again, he supposed resentfully, he didn't really know Ginny either. "Has she?"

"Ginny?" Neville gave him an odd look. "You should ask her yourself."

Pietro opened his mouth, wanting to ask another question, but he never got the chance.

"What you are about to see before you, ladies and gentlemen," Shacklebolt interrupted pleasantly, "is known as a wizarding duel."

"A duel?" Tony scoffed. "What are they going to do? Use their wands like lightsabers?"

Pietro snickered.  
"No," Shacklebolt said bluntly, "they're going to hurl spells of any calibre at each other."

Hurl spells of any calibre at each other? Pietro felt his eyes narrow.

"Is it dangerous?" he jumped in sharply, not caring for the amused expressions that passed across a few of the faces in the observation room.

"It can be," Shacklebolt shrugged. "But don't worry Mr Maximoff." Pietro didn't like the way that the man's eyes were twinkling, like the entire matter was a joke or some childish game. "These two can take care of themselves and if Miss Prewett is as good at duelling as I am able to recall, then Mr Malfoy is in for a bit of a challenge."

Pietro wordlessly glared at the older man and turned his attention back to the inside of the simulation room. Malfoy and Ginny were now standing at opposite ends of the suite, looking like they had no care in the world with their sleeves rolled up, their stances casual.

"Are they ready to begin, Agent Hill?" Shacklebolt asked.

"Just a moment…" she swiped her fingers on her data pad and all of the monitors in the room lit up. Pietro found himself staring at the computer that was blinking out Ginny's vital signs. Her heart rate was slightly raised, her respirations elevated. She was nervous, he realized, and he felt the knot in his stomach pull tighter. "Ready."

Pietro almost didn't see the first spell that Malfoy flung at Ginny, the jet of light too bright, almost too fast to the naked eye. His heart clenched in his chest and he felt his fingernails dig into the callused skin of his palm – he hadn't even recognised that his hands had tightened into fists. But the light bounced off an invisible shield, and it dissipated into nothing.

And then, as his eyes landed on Ginny, and it was as though time froze. Her eyes were alight with a fierce determination, her skin glowing with hidden power, her auburn hair twisting like flame and for the first time since he had met her, Pietro felt like her was finally seeing Ginny for who she really was. Her wand whirled in her hand, a swirl of bright red light, and barely a second later, it was hurtling towards Malfoy. She smiled as he blocked it.

She was free, he realised with a start.

Her magic made her free and it made her, God help him, even more stunning than before.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to look away. This woman, she had lied to him, to all of them, from the beginning, yet here she was, standing in the middle of a room, her secrets now laid completely, unforgivingly bare.

She was strong, he understood suddenly. Stronger than he ever could have imagined, but it was that very strength that made her beautiful.

* * *

 **Hey guys! So, this is probably my latest update ever for a Sunday (it's only 13 minutes until midnight here). Anyway, I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter and if you have any questions, concerns, or see any mistakes, then feel free to message me.**

 **A huge thank you to all of my amazing reviewers, favouriters, followers, and silent readers. You're all amazing!  
A special shout out to my guest reviewers for this week: NeverSkipNine, Krishi26, Zan, and my two Guests! Your words and your support are very much appreciated!**

 **IMPORTANT: I WILL NOT BE UPDATING FOR THE NEXT TWO SUNDAYS, AS I'M GOING HOLIDAYING. FOR MORE INFO, SEE MY PROFILE. I'll PM everyone who messages me before Wednesday this week**

 **As such, you lovely people, I hope that you all have a lovely next few weeks and I shall see you all again very soon!**

 **HC**


	30. Chapter 30

She's mad, but she's magic.  
There's no lie in her fire.

 _Charles Bukowski_

* * *

Pietro found himself bumping into Ginny a lot more after the demonstration that she and Malfoy had given them. Careful not to mention her web of lies regarding her abilities, he managed to find reasons to talk to her almost everyday before lunch in the cafeteria, whether it be about the weather, how her new training program was going, or whether or not she had heard the latest gossip from Tony's parties, since she didn't go to them anymore. Pietro, on more than one occasion, had tried convincing her to attend another one – memories of red dresses and champagne glasses crossed his mind – but, much to Pietro's chagrin, she kept refusing.

He kept running into her, sometimes literally, in the hallways and in the gym, where he would find excuses to keep her lingering by conversing about meaningless topics, like press conferences, newspaper articles, and the occasional overenthusiastic fan, which they would chuckle over. He liked those moments when he got her to laugh, because it meant that she was beginning to open up to him, to trust him. He even began seeing traces of her bright eyes and her wild hair flickering at the edges of his dreams – the day after that had happened, he had arisen from his bed, shaky, and wide eyed, as though he had just been hit by a bolt of lightning.

Wanda and Tony thought that it was hilarious, his infatuation and her obliviousness, as did Ginny's magical friends; the blonde one was especially annoying and Pietro scowled to himself at the image of Draco Malfoy. The moment that Malfoy had stepped out of that simulation room, he had given Pietro the world's biggest shit-eating smirk and had whispered, "So, when's the wedding?" in his ear. Pietro still hadn't forgiven the arrogant blonde for that one.

He only hoped that he would be able to get his emotions under control by the time that Clint came back from leave; the archer wouldn't give him a moment of peace if he knew. But Pietro didn't know if Clint would ever come back. If Natasha was correct, and Pietro had learned that she very usually was, then it was possible that Clint may never re-enter the field again. Pietro found himself hoping that that wouldn't be the case and wondered if he could hound Natasha about visiting him again.

"Pietro?"

He jumped at the sound of the soft, familiar voice and turned. He felt his breath hitch at her appearance. Ginny was wearing her standard S.H.I.E.L.D. gear, the black leggings hugging her curves, and the tight fabric showing the new muscle in her arms. His chest tightened, before he frowned and brushed a hand through his now silver hair. He didn't get nervous around girls.

"What are you doing here so late?" she asked. Dark purple rings circled her eyes.

He chuckled nervously in response and glanced up at the red headed young woman who was hogging the middle of the doorway. "Couldn't sleep," he shrugged finally; his scars were aching something savage tonight and he had hoped that a little bit of running in their private gym would ease the pain. Not to mention, he thought in irritation, his thoughts wouldn't leave him alone. With the introduction of the new, highly confidential wizarding team, Clint's potential resignation, Ginny, and the fact that an entire, fantastical world lived through the cracks of modern, human society… There was too much to think about, too much to take in. Someway, somehow, it all needed processing. It was simply to bad for Pietro that his brain liked to process those things when he wanted to be sleeping.

"Me neither," Ginny mused quietly and she yawned, blinking heavily. "What's your excuse?" And she stepped lightly over to one of the large gym mats.

"Can't stop thinking," he muttered, not wanting to admit to the true reason why he was awake. "And you?"

"Bad dream."

He hesitated. "Want to talk about it?"

She raised a daring eyebrow. "Do you?" Ginny retorted, and Pietro sighed in slight irritation at her evasive response. Despite all of the progress that he had made in recent weeks, she was still just as vague and cagey as before. He hoped that that would change soon.

"Touché, Ginny, touché." He started up the treadmill that Tony had specially engineered to suit his speeds and allowed his feet to start pounding the belt. He winced as the movement caused his shirt to shift against his scars and decided, perhaps, that this hadn't been such a good idea after all.

But running, as long as he could remember, had been a part of who he was. Hell, ever since he was a kid, he had loved to run. He would run down to the baker on Sunday mornings to get the best pick of the fresh bread. He would run to school and run home again, and after the bombing, well, running had become his outlet, his way to deal with his anger and his grief. There was just something therapeutic about the way that his feet would rhythmically hit the ground and the way that his breath burned in his chest. It made him feel oddly free. Wanda couldn't really understand it – she, unlike Pietro, hated running, and Pietro allowed a brief smirk to tug its way onto his lips.

"So, how's the training going?" he asked nonchalantly. Ever since the demonstration, he had barely seen any magic being performed, nor had he heard it mentioned. He supposed, though, that it was for the best, given the amount of security and surveillance technology; anyone could be listening. At least, here in this private gym, they were safe from all of that. Or rather, that's what Natasha had told him.

"It's fine," she said, stretching out her hamstrings. "Reminds me of old times, which could be a good or bad thing, depending on the way that you look at it."

"Any luck with… Greyback?" Pietro forced the name between his teeth.

Ginny's lips pursed in response, but she shrugged lightly. "We've handled it."

"And?" Pietro lowered the speed on the treadmill.

"And what?"

"What happened?" Pietro pressed.

"Look," she sighed, "Pietro-"

"What. Happened?" he demanded again. "That man is the cause of the suffering that happened to Clint, my sister, and myself. We have a right to know what he told you."

Ginny was silent.

"What did he say?"

"Fury and Shacklebolt know and that's all that matters," she replied curtly and she shifted uncomfortably. "I… Please don't ask about it again."

Pietro laughed incredulously and switched off the treadmill entirely. "You're asking me to forget about him? After what he did?"

"I didn't say that. And technically," Ginny shot back, "Greyback didn't do anything. It just turned out that he's just a pathetic pawn in a larger game of chess."

Pietro felt a sudden burst of anger and hurt. Even now, after everything that they had seen, after everything that they now knew, the riddles didn't end. He had been so careful not to mention the lies that she had told and the secret that she had so successfully kept from them, and he was sick of pretending that he didn't care.

"Why?" His question was unexpectedly sharp in the otherwise silent room.

Ginny tilted her head. "Why what?"

"Why didn't you tell me about your magic?"

"Why are you bringing that up?" she challenged. "And I thought that the answer would be obvious – it was a secret."

Pietro shot her an irritated expression. "I could have kept it."

"But I barely knew you," she pointed out. "I barely knew any of you. And believe it or not, it's not just my secret, but the secret of hundreds of thousands of people," she added sharply. "Maybe even millions, and it's one that all of those people rely on so that they can lead the lives that they want to lead, so that they can go and do what they want to go and do. Merlin, Pietro, I wasn't going to compromise it unless I absolutely had to and what happened back at the facility…" her features hardened, "well, that was reason enough to let the cat out of the bag."

"So, if that mission had never happened, we still wouldn't know?"

"No."

"Would you have ever told us?"

"Not if I could have helped it."

"But-"

"But what? It's not that hard to understand! Haven't you ever had orders, Pietro? Haven't you ever had to withhold something from someone for the sake or the safety of someone else?"

Pietro fell stubbornly silent, not wanting to admit his experience in that particular sector, because he had done that. He had done that many times on the streets of Sokovia for Wanda. He had done that every single time Clint had enquired about his pain and the bullet scars, not wanting the archer to feel even more blame than he already did.

"So, what's going to happen about Greyback?" he asked tightly.

"We're handling it," she repeated, annoyance flashing through her eyes.

"Handling it?" he scoffed. "What's that supposed to mean? That one day you'll go out to 'handle it' and never come back?"

Ginny was abruptly quiet. "Maybe," she murmured softly and Pietro looked at her in a mix of horror and fury, not expecting her to be so blatantly blunt. "Look, Pietro…"

"You're leaving?" he snapped. "Tell the truth. Are you leaving?"

She sighed and tucked a stray strand of her red hair behind her ear. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but…" she swallowed guiltily, "we're going away tomorrow, to follow one of Greyback's leads."

Pietro was stunned into silence. They were going on a mission? Alone? And, Pietro realized with a sinking stomach, they might not come back. A cold hand twisted his heart, as the thought imprinted itself into his mind. They might not come back. Ginny might not come back. He resisted the urge to punch something, to yell in anger and in frustration. Even after all of this time, the secrets, and the lies… Everything was just the same. Nothing had changed. He was a fool to think that it had.

"And why aren't the rest of us – the Avengers coming? This is what we train for!"

"It's what we train for too, Pietro," she exhaled in frustration, "we all talked about this! Just because you all know now, doesn't mean that we're going to form some sort of large team! We're witches and wizards – we're supposed to stay hidden, and we can't do that if we combine forces with you. The point of this whole alliance is so that we can offer each other intelligence regarding certain matters, not force unless it's absolutely."

Pietro's jaw tightened. An alliance. Was that the only way she perceived their friendship to be? "How long will you be gone?"

"A day? Maybe more. And…" she winced, "please don't tell anyone else. No one else is supposed to know."

* * *

Pietro stared at the ceiling from his spot on the bed, wondering if he should put stars on the blank plasterboard like when he had been younger. It might make his room feel less sterile, he mused, as he took in the still bare walls and the frugal furniture. Wanda had urged him for ages to dress his room up a bit, make it look like it actually belonged to someone, but Pietro had been hesitant. Making this room liveable meant that he was now grounded here, a part of an organisation that he still sometimes resented.

It wasn't that S.H.I.E.L.D. was bad, he told himself. He just didn't like the decisions that they made sometimes. He didn't like the secrets that they supposedly kept for the 'greater good', like what they were doing at the moment with Ginny and the others.

He scowled to himself and he felt his fingers twitch by his sides. The last three days had been hell. He had been feeling a mix of guilt at the way that he had talked to Ginny and, against his better judgement, he had had to lie and dodge questions about where the small, magical group had temporarily gone. He didn't know how some of the others did it, lying all the time like this and keeping secrets, because he couldn't stand it.

He had never really been fond of lying, though, preferring to keep his opinions loud and well known. Wanda was better at it – her small smile and wide, sad eyes that had gotten through some of the more difficult situations that they had had to live through in Sokovia. He snorted to himself at a vague memory that cropped up in his mind.

It had been Pietro's first time stealing on the streets and the police officer that had caught him, had glared at him and grabbed his shoulder hard enough to bruise. Pietro had whimpered and pleaded that he was sorry and that he wouldn't do it again, but it hadn't been enough to placate the stern officer. And then Wanda had appeared and used her sweet words and her dusty, starved appearance to their advantage. In the end, because of Wanda, the police officer had let them off with a warning and even now, Pietro still didn't quite know how she had done it.

"Mr Maximoff?" The AI, FRIDAY, called him and Pietro's thoughts scattered.

"Yes?" he replied absently.

"You asked to be informed when Miss Prewett returned?"

Pietro sat up abruptly in his bed. "She's back?"

"She's in the infirmary."

The infirmary? "Why?" he asked sharply. "Is she hurt?"

"I cannot answer that."

Pietro brought a hand through his mussed hair. "Don't worry about it." A second later, he was gone.

* * *

Ginny sat reluctantly on the bed and frowned at Helen Cho. "I'm fine," she insisted. "Bruises are nothing that time itself can't heal."

"I'll be the judge of that, Miss Prewett," Helen said firmly. "Jacket off, please."

Ginny huffed slightly, but did as Helen asked, shivering as she laid the item of clothing in a nearby chair. She hated medical bays. She hated the way that they stank of disinfectant, hated the constant movement and lack of peace, and the constant cold that liked to seep its way into her skin and her bones.

"Shirt up."

Ginny shifted uncomfortably. "They're just bruises."

Helen glared at her and Ginny sighed, lifting her shirt up to expose the impressive display of green and purple bruises that littered her stomach. A deep, but recently healed – courtesy of Hermione – scar sat off to the right, marking her skin, and Helen's eyes widened.

"Is this new?" Helen questioned and her fingers hovered above the raw skin.

Ginny shifted and cursed in her mind. This was exactly why she hadn't wanted Cho to go poking around. "It's just irritated," she lied eventually. "I got it years ago."

"Really," Helen said dead panned. "It doesn't look years old."

"I got it years ago," Ginny reiterated. "It never really healed properly, though."

Helen nodded sceptically. "Fine." She began palpitating Ginny's stomach. "This hurt?"

"It's bruised," Ginny muttered moodily. "Of course it hurts."

"When did you get bruised?"

"Yesterday."

"And you haven't had any other pain? No fever?" she asked, while touching a hand to Ginny's forehead.

"No, nothing."

"You've been lucky, then," Helen said and she tugged Ginny's shirt back down. "It could have been worse."

Ginny's expression darkened and she nodded tightly. "Thank you."

"It's not a problem. Come back if you get any sudden pain, though, got it?"

"Yep." Ginny picked up her dark jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, as she walked out of the small cubicle. She winced as she saw the dark stain that was still etched into the fabric. She hated cleaning blood out of clothes.

"All good, Weasley?" Malfoy asked her, sauntering up to her. Ginny sighed at his appearance. Even after everything that he had lived to, and even though one of his eyes was swollen and he was limping slightly, he still swaggered around like he owned the place.

"Just bruising. And you?"

Malfoy smirked at her. "Just bruising," he repeated with a toss of his head.

"And you Luna?"

"Oh," she beamed at Ginny, "I'm fine. I'm glad to be back, though," she said, a frown briefly marring her elflike features.

"Me too," Neville muttered, appearing from his own small cubicle, the cut on his head now properly sterilised. "Where's Hermione gone?"

"Straight to Fury," Ginny responded, as the small group made their way towards the exit. "She shouldn't be long – she already sent a patronus to Shacklebolt."

The others nodded vaguely. "I'm gonna go eat and then hit the sack," Malfoy yawned. "We can deal with the rest of this shit tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan," Neville agreed. "But-"

"Oh, hello Maximoff," Malfoy interrupted suddenly and they all came to a gradual stop, peering curiously at the silver haired speedster who was glaring at them from across the hallway. He looked tired, Ginny noted absently, and she frowned at the observation. "Noticed that we're back already? Merlin, I didn't know that you were keeping such close tabs on us."

"I want to talk to Ginny," Pietro said, folding his arms across his chest with a scowl.

"Surprise, surprise," Malfoy muttered, and Ginny sent him a scathing look.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'll catch up with you guys either later or tomorrow morning, yeah?"

There was a mumbled ascent from the others, before they sluggishly began to stumble away. Malfoy raised an eyebrow suggestively at her, as they rounded a corner. Ginny ignored it.

"What's up?" she asked, suddenly embarrassingly aware of how she must look and she sank a little more into the battered fabric of her jacket. She hadn't showered in three days and her clothes were still stained with blood and the smell of burnt magic. She berated herself a second later with a grimace. She shouldn't care how she looked. Not to someone whom she considered to be her friend.

"You're hurt?" Pietro's voice was unnaturally tight.

"Nothing that time can't heal," she shrugged.

"How bad?"

"Just a few bruises. Honestly, you shouldn't worry so much," she said with a small smile. "We can all take care of ourselves."

Pietro took a deep breath, as though he were trying to calm himself down. "Was the mission successful?"

"In a way, but I don't want to talk about that now," she said quietly, as she started walking slowly towards the private dorms that Fury had arranged for herself and the others. "So," she said, deliberately changing the subject and hoping that Pietro would follow suit, "anything new happen while we were gone?"

Pietro nodded slowly. "Steve is away and Sam's gone with him. Something about following a lead on a missing person? But other than that, Clint's still not come back, and training's been the same as usual. Wanda was wondering where you'd gone. I told her that I didn't know. I don't know if she bought it."

Ginny nodded carefully, trying not to flinch at his accusing tone. "I did apologise, you know."

"I know. But next time," he said, "if you go somewhere, then do me a favour and don't tell me? I'm not a good liar and I don't like doing it."

Something twisted in Ginny's stomach. "Okay," she replied softly.

"And I don't like waiting around, wondering whether or not you'll come back or not," he added bluntly

"I… Okay. Sorry, again."

Pietro simply nodded. "Well, you look like you could use some sleep."

"That bad?" she teased, an expression of mock insult appearing on her face.

Pietro flushed. "I just meant that you-" he protested.

"I know what you meant, Pietro," Ginny grinned. "I was just joking, but you're probably right." She stretched her arms and blinked heavily for emphasis. "I've barely slept at all these past few days and I'm exhausted. So," she paused, "I'll see you tomorrow? We can have a proper talk then."

Pietro nodded. "All right. Good night."

"Good night," and she turned away, ready to follow the path back to the dorms. Hermione was no doubt wondering where she was.

"And Ginny?" he said, the expression in his eyes oddly intense. Ginny turned around.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad that you're back."

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I'm back! I only came back two days ago and I wasn't sure as to whether or not I was going to be able to post this. But I have, and as a result, it may not be up to the standard of a few of the others, seeing as it was a bit rushed. If it isn't up to the standard of the others, then I apologise in advance. But then and again, perfection is overrated. Sometimes, anyway.**

 **Thanks to all of the support and love that this story has received while I was away - my inbox was flooded when I opened up my computer the other day. Special shout out to all of my lovely guest reviewers!**

 **Also, GOOD LUCK TO EVERYONE WHO'S GETTING THEIR A-LEVELS THIS WEEK! I hope that all of you get the grades that you want and that you get into the universities of your choice!**

 **I hope that you all have a great week!**

 **HC**


	31. Chapter 31

Always go with the choice that scares you the most, because that's the one that is going to help you grow.

 _Caroline Myss_

* * *

Ginny didn't quite know when she had become tentative friends with the red headed assassin. She wasn't sure if it was the confession of one of her final and most closely guarded secrets that had done it or if it was just the result of being forced to spend so much time together in the private gym on the opposite end of the compound. Regardless, over the weeks, Ginny found herself slowly appreciating the dry humour, sharp commands, and the sound advice that Natasha had to offer. The red head was smart, perceptive, and a good teacher and Ginny was decidedly lucky for her to be her trainer.

Except for days like today, when Natasha's expression was deliberately blank and when her words were sharper than the knives that she favoured. Ginny quietly suspected that her dark mood had something to do with Clint's recent resignation, which had only come days earlier, but she hadn't yet found the courage to bring the matter up.

"Elbows up," Natasha barked, landing a painful jab to Ginny's kidneys and shoving her roughly onto the mat. Ginny withheld a groan as Natasha impatiently motioned for her to get to her feet. She risked a quick glance at the watch that was tied around her wrist and stifled a sigh, as she realised that she still had half an hour of this torture left. Normally, Natasha wasn't so brutal in her movements, making the sessions a lot more bearable, but today was one of the rare exceptions. Ginny supposed it was a good thing. After all, no one would soften their blows for her in reality.

"No one's going to wait for you in the field," Natasha frowned, unknowingly repeating Ginny's own thoughts. "Come on, Prewett."

Ginny tossed her head, drops of sweat dripping down her face. "Got it," she muttered, sliding into a stance that made her thigh muscles burn from yesterday's unforgiving obstacle course.

"So," Natasha continued, ducking effortlessly as Ginny attempted a high kick aimed at her face, "what's going on between you and Maximoff?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and attempted another punch, resenting the change in subject. First it had been Hermione, then Wanda, and now Natasha? Why did they asking her about him? Yes, he was a friend, and yes, they had become closer, but that didn't mean that there was something going on, did it? Ginny shook her head firmly, not allowing herself to dwell on the matter any longer. Even if what they were implying was true – and she wasn't going to admit that it was – she still wasn't ready.

She swore silently, swinging only at air as Natasha sidestepped again. "Nothing," she mumbled, struggling to once again find her rhythm. "Absolutely nothing is going on."

"Uh huh," Natasha responded dryly, "And that's why he gives you the doe eyes every time you enter a room, is it?"

Doe eyes? Ginny scoffed. "We're just friends!" she protested weakly, wincing as she tilted her head from side to side. The muscles pulled unpleasantly in her neck and she grimaced. That wasn't going to be enjoyable tomorrow.

"Friends," Natasha replied flatly, forcing Ginny onto the mat for the fifth time in a row. "Right."

Ginny coughed as the breath was forced out of her and she rolled herself onto her stomach before hoisting herself onto her knees. "It's the truth!"

"For you, maybe."

"For him, too!" she said, stumbling to her feet.

Natasha raised a sceptical eyebrow. "You keep telling yourself that, Prewett. And would you keep your damned elbows up? "

Ginny tugged on a strand of hair. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise," Natasha snapped irritably. "Just do it."

Ginny did as she was told. "I… I'm sorry about Clint," she said eventually.

"Me too." Natasha's reply was short and clipped. "But it's been coming for a while. We've all known it."

Ginny nodded vaguely and turned away. She rationally knew that she had played no part in Clint's overall decision to resign, but a small, irrepressible part of her couldn't help but blame herself. It was her world, she thought bitterly. It was her world that had taken a part of him that was now unable to be returned and Ginny regretted the fact that it had. Clint had been an innocent – innocent of the Wizarding world and the horrors that it possessed – but even he hadn't been immune to it. It made her fear what would happen to the other members of the team, now that they knew the whole truth. She swallowed hard. She and the others had already warned them, taught them so much about their society, and she feared what they would do with their newfound knowledge. Not for the first time, Ginny's thoughts flickered to Wanda and the wistful expression that would appear whenever she opened the books on magical history and basic spells. Wanda was entranced by the magical world and it was a worrying realisation. She made a mental note to discuss it with Wanda later.

Ginny pivoted on the ball of her foot, her arm swinging in a wide arc, her thoughts once again concentrating on the conversation and the task at hand. "He has a family, doesn't he?" she asked.

"A wife and three kids," Natasha replied tonelessly.

"Will he come and visit?"

"Not likely."

Ginny nodded once and the now familiar guilt reared its head. She pushed it back down into the depths of her mind. She had nothing to do with Clint's resignation, she reminded herself harshly. And the fact that he wasn't going to come by made sense – why would he want to be reminded of a world that had all but destroyed him?

"Can we visit him?" Ginny asked, allowing a small smirk to cross her lips as one of her fists finally landed where it was supposed to.

"I don't think that he wants any visitors."

Ginny sighed and slowed her movements. "I… He's still doing it tough, isn't he?" she questioned quietly.

"Yeah," Natasha murmured, her voice barely audible in the otherwise empty gym. "When… When I was there, he barely slept. Laura had to force him to eat. The kids knew that something was up – they kept asking about why their dad no longer spoke, why he no longer helped them with their homework, and why he didn't cook pancakes on Sunday mornings. Laura's a mess." She frowned suddenly, a flash of guilt flying across her face, breaking her normally blank façade. "I didn't want to leave, but this line of work is unforgiving at the best of times and catastrophic at the worst."

Ginny was silent at Natasha's admission, her thoughts racing, the idea that she had been pondering for so long sitting on the edge of her tongue. I can help Clint, she wanted to say. I can undo what was done. But she never got the chance to ask it; a piercing ringtone filled the air instead, and Ginny grimly vowed that she would tell Natasha about it later. It was a matter that needed to be dealt with.

"Romanoff," the redhead said briskly into the receiver.

Ginny sat down on the mat, briefly enjoying the small respite, when Natasha's face turned to stone. Something had happened and Ginny found herself tensing at the thought.

"Since when?" Natasha demanded, grabbing her gym bag and haphazardly throwing the few items that were scattered around the gym into it. "We can be ready in five be out of here in ten minutes, sir." She paused again, a long silence that reverberated its way throughout the room, and Ginny allowed a tremble to shiver its way down her spine in trepidation. "Understood, sir." And with an abrupt hand movement, she shut off the phone. "This session is going to have to wait until later," she told Ginny, as she wrenched open the door. "The Avengers have to ship out. There's been an attack at Stark Tower."

* * *

"Before today, TEPHRA were just a silent activist group, passively protesting against the need for the Avengers Initiative and calling for the registration of all super powered persons in the United States," the presenter was saying grimly, as news footage from earlier that day played silently in the background. Ginny closed her eyes and leaned back on the thin pillow of her bed, her hands clenching into fists by her sides. "But now," the reporter continued, "everyone will know their name after their brutal attack, which killed fourteen people and injured thirty-three others, at Stark Tower early this afternoon. The Avengers responded almost instantly, but even they could not save those who had already been killed. There are additional reports of there also being mass destruction, particularly on the upper levels, of the Tower." The reporter in the studio disappeared, as the television screen filled with a hoard of reporters screeching questions at a rattled and bruised Tony Stark who was stationed in front of the entrance his now infamous building. It was a hectic, frenzied scene and Ginny felt a stab of pity for the billionaire. He hadn't earned any of this.

"Mr Stark," one yelled, "what can you say about those who were killed today?"

"I can say that they were people," Tony replied coldly. "They were good people that belonged to a good team. They didn't deserve any of this."

"Were the majority of those who lost their lives murdered before or after the Avengers got there?" another one shrieked insensitively.

"The majority of those who were killed were security guards and receptionists on the ground floor," Tony said. Ginny saw him hide his shaking fingers behind his back.

"Were any of those who attacked the Tower captured?"

"No, they weren't."

"Why _your_ Tower, Mr Stark?"

"I…" Tony removed his sunglasses, and looked the reporter in the eye. "I can't answer that."

"And can you say that this was a terrorist attack?"

"I'm afraid that that's classified information," Natasha butted in smoothly and the crowd of reporters hushed, parting like a wave as they allowed her to pass through. Ginny didn't miss the wary glances that passed between some of the reporters and she smirked. Natasha's reputation preceded her. "I'm also afraid that Mr Stark will no longer be taking questions."

There was renewed screaming and eccentric waving and dancing of microphones from the journalists, but Natasha was unrelenting, as she guided Tony through the mass and into a car that was parked on the side of the street.

The footage faded once again back to the blonde reporter in the studio and Ginny sighed. "None of the other members of the Avengers Initiative have provided statements to the press, but we can expect that they, much like the rest of the population here in the US, are as shattered and shocked about this as we are. Our hearts go out to the victims and their families."

And with that, the screen turned into a chaotic mess of colour and loud music, as the ads began playing their reels. It was disgustingly colourful, Ginny thought darkly, too bright for what had happened today, and she turned the television off with a vicious press of the switch.

Ever since Natasha had left earlier that afternoon, the entire compound had been in an uproar. Classes had been cancelled, scientists had abandoned their posts, and operatives had stopped their training, leaving recruits and agents alike to stand anxiously in front of the televisions that were blasting the grim news all around the facility. Ginny thought that it was odd, the way that the invasion of Stark Tower had managed to bring the facility, and nearly the entire country, to its knees.

But then and again, Tony Stark wasn't an average celebrity either. He was an Avenger, one of the most brilliant and formidable men on the planet, and if this group, this TEPHRA, had managed to unnerve him and tear apart one of the most secure buildings on earth, then they could do almost anything.

The thought was distinctly troubling.

A knock on the door scattered Ginny's thoughts and she frowned, not expecting any visitors. "Come in?"

The door opened with a familiar squeaking sound and a familiar head poked through the small gap. There was a wan, tired smile on his face and Ginny got to her feet in surprise.

"Pietro?" She gestured for him to enter the small room that was now her new, temporary home. "You're back. Are you okay? Are the others?"

He sank into one of the hard chairs in the corner of her tiny room and closed his eyes. "We're fine. Unsettled, perhaps. But none of us got hurt. They all scattered once they realized that we were there."

"And you really captured no one?"

"No."

Ginny's face fell. "Bloody hell," she murmured. "And you have no idea who these people are?"

Pietro shook his head. "No. We'd never even heard of TEPHRA. They weren't on any watch lists or anything… Natasha's doing some digging, though, and she's getting in touch with a few old contacts. She'll find something." He sighed deeply and stared at her carefully, his blue eyes strangely deep and serious. "There's something else, too. Your friend," he hesitated, "Hermione, she already knows."

Ginny's eyes narrowed and a feeling of foreboding welled up in her chest. She didn't know if she wanted to hear what he was going to say next.

"The deaths…"

"What about the deaths?" she interjected sharply.

Pietro took a deep breath. "You know how you discussed the," he swallowed, "killing curse with us all of those weeks ago?"

Ginny paled and she closed her eyes. "Are you sure?" she whispered, as Pietro slowly got to his feet. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"There's no other possible cause of death," Pietro said quietly. "Helen Cho examined them herself and so did Hermione. She agreed."

The only thing that Ginny could think about after Pietro's admission was Greyback. Greyback had warned them about something when he had been under the influence of the Veritaserum. He had said that partnerships were being created, partnerships with people who were much more powerful than themselves. They had tried pushing Greyback for more information, approaching and asking questions from a variety of different angles, but he either didn't know, or the secrets were just so deeply buried – or protected – that they hadn't been able to extract any further information out of him. Maybe this group, this TEHPRA, was the organisation that Greyback had spoken of?

She took a deep breath, her jaw hardening in resolve. This was going to be another long night, but at least they now had a solid lead. "I have to get in touch with Shacklebolt and Greyback," she declared. "And do you know where Hermione is? I need to speak with her, too."

"Ginny-"

"And I'm going to need to know everything that you saw, especially if you saw any of the faces of the attackers."

"They were all wearing masks," Pietro said impatiently, "but Ginny-"

"What?" she retorted, gathering her hair into a high ponytail.

He laid a hand upon her arm and she flinched at his touch, colour rushing to her face a second later, as she saw his brief expression of hurt.

"Sorry," she murmured, as he removed his hand.

"It's okay," Pietro said quietly. "But please... calm down. We can deal with this in the morning. Trust me," he muttered, a twisted smile on his lips, "it's still going to be there and we'll all operate better with sleep."

Ginny privately doubted that any of the other Avengers were going to get sleep, but she let the comment pass, as she met Pietro's gaze.

And this time, while he looked at her, he gently laced his fingers into her own and gave her hand a small, reassuring squeeze. His skin was unusually warm, but his grip held a strength and comforting determination that Ginny hadn't felt in a long time.

She only just managed to ignore the way that her heart rate increased, as she tentatively pressed back.

* * *

 **Hey guys! I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter! If you saw any mistakes or anything like that within this chapter, then feel free to PM me or leave a review and I will fix it ASAP.  
**

 **Special thanks to my guests, lw117149, and Becca, and special shout out to A Person D, who suggested the hand holding!**

 **Thank you all so much for the reviews, the favourites, the follows, and all of the love that everyone has given this story thus far! Without you lot, this story wouldn't have come far at all.**

 **I hope that you all have a fantastic week and until next Sunday!**

 **HC**


	32. Chapter 32

.

* * *

She's been through more Hell than you'll ever know.  
But that's what gives her beauty an edge...  
You can't touch a woman who wears pain like the grandest of diamonds around her neck.

 _Alfa (c)_

* * *

The room was bitingly cold, a dim light flickering on the ceiling of the otherwise empty space. The air was stale and musty and she was sure that she could see the mould, growing in droves, on the concrete walls. Dark stains littered the floor and she narrowed her eyes at the marks. Blood, she knew instinctively. Wrinkling her nose, she stepped forward gingerly and winced as a drop of icy water landed on her forehead and trickled down the side of her face.

She scoffed shakily, crossing her arms over her chest not only to preserve warmth, but also to show defiance, just in case they were watching. Was this really where she was expected to meet them? How stereotypically boring, she thought, and she shifted on her feet. But then and again, with what they were promising – and paying – she supposed that she shouldn't wasn't really in a place to question their predictable meeting places.

She sighed and padded into the centre of the room, staring up at the fluorescent light in distaste. She hated flickering lights. Or rather, she hated flickering lights in dodgy rooms and dark places. She hated the dancing shadows that they created, the way they blinked, hypnotising the starer, hated the imposing effect that they created…

She blinked and looked away, suddenly pushing back the urge to laugh. If this was a scare tactic, then she grudgingly supposed that it was working. She only hoped that she wouldn't have to wait too long for their arrival: from what her contact had told her, they were very… selective with who, where, when, and how they chose to meet.

Absently, she let the power of her gift flow through her until it appeared like there was no one in the room at all. She smirked to her shadowless self as she walked absently throughout the chamber. Invisibility, while it had first seemed like a curse, was now one of her most valuable attributes. Hell, if it hadn't been for her gift, then she wouldn't even be here right now. Instead, she would have still been living her average life in an average, old town working in an average, boring job.

Now, though, she was special. She was different, unique. She was desirable in a way that so many others wouldn't be able to understand.

She had stolen things first. Just small things, like the occasional bar of chocolate from a stand on the street or an article of clothing from a cheap shop. Then, she had graduated to theft from department stores – it was always funny to see the shop owners glance at the alarms, only to see that no one was there. For a while, that had placated her, the easy thrills that she was able to receive with petty crime more than capable of providing her with her daily adrenaline rush. But then, everything changed. A woman had approached her in the street, saying that she knew what she could do, but instead of the woman revealing her identity, she had simply told her to steal a diamond necklace.

She had shrugged and had said it was no problem, so long as the woman was willing to pay for her services. The woman had agreed and on the following day, the woman had received her demand. Jobs came quickly from then on, from a whole multitude of differing people. She had stolen drugs, alcohol, important documents, information, even a few cars on several different occasions. And as time passed, she started to enjoy it. She liked the salary, liked the thrill of stealing, liked the way that no one would ever be able to find out who she truly was.

But then they, the unnamed group, had gotten in contact with her. She didn't know who they were, didn't know why they were even interested, but she had decided not to question it, especially seeing as the contact that they had sent had threatened her with varying painful methods that would force her to agree anyway.

So, here she was. In a small, dingy, blood stained room and waiting for people who were promising her so much more than what she already had.

She glanced at her watch again. She hoped that she wouldn't have to wait too much longer.

* * *

Ginny stepped into a frigid hallway, her eyes burning from tiredness and her limbs heavy and tense from stress. Despite trying to follow Pietro's suggestion from the night before, she hadn't been able to find any sleep, her mind too busy and unsettled to relax. First, she had been worried only about the victims of the attack and the involvement of witches and wizards on a public scale, but then her thoughts had drifted to more personal matters.

Pietro. A smirking, narcissistic, possessive asshole who didn't know when to quit. She didn't know how it had happened, but somehow he had wormed his way into her mind and was now a constant, stubborn presence that refused to be removed. He was there at breakfast, at lunch, at dinner. He was there when she was frustrated or when she was simply reading a book in the common room that they all shared together. But that wasn't the worrying part. The worrying part was that she was beginning to enjoy it. She was beginning to enjoy his incessant talking and boasting and joking. She was beginning to like the way that he smiled at her, teased her, and helped her.

It was odd, she surmised, looking forward to the presence of someone again. Especially the presence of a boy whom she had originally deemed a self-indulging asshole.

She resisted the urge to yawn, as she strode slowly towards the cell that caged Greyback. Merlin, she thought to herself, she hated Azkaban.

The cell that Greyback had been placed in was positioned at the end of the hallway and the gate squealed loudly, as she entered the God forsaken room. Just before she entered, the warden told her that she could take as much time as was necessary and the statement sent a chill down her spine.

At first, Ginny didn't see Greyback, he was too huddled and hunched in the shadows of his cell. The short time in Azkaban hadn't done him any favours, Ginny thought, as she observed his bent, bony figure crouched on the floor.

But she couldn't bring herself to care. The bastard deserved it.

"Greyback," she barked, her voice falling flat in the oppressive, stone room. Her grasp on the small vial of Veritaserum tightened and she steeled herself for the mission ahead, for the things that she would ask and for the answers that she would receive. Despite the basic training that Natasha had given her, she still didn't feel ready, still felt weak and unable to handle herself in a situation as serious as this.

A second later, she pushed the thoughts away firmly and took a deep breath. Detachment, Natasha had told her, as she felt her face go uncomfortably blank. Detachment is the only key to a successful interrogation. "You know why I'm here."

"Do I?" the stooped figure rasped in reply and he cackled, a grating, harsh sound that made unwelcome goose flesh arise on her skin. "Because I don't think that I do, Miss Weasley." And he turned to her, a leering smile sitting upon his face.

Ginny almost let her composure break at the sight of his appearance.

Greyback's eyes were yellow and feral, his cheeks disgustingly hollow. His hair was thin and oily, his lips chapped and bloody. She could see his chest heaving beneath the faded and baggy prison clothing that he had been given and the gruesome way that his skin stretched over his ragged bones.

He was a wretched sight but Ginny couldn't find any pity for him, for he deserved none.

"TEPHRA," she demanded coldly, after a brief moment of silence. "Who are they?"

He tilted his head and sneered at her, baring the sharpened edges of his decaying front teeth. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Ginny raised an eyebrow and let her palm fall slowly open, revealing the potion – her leverage – that had been hidden under her fingers. Before, they hadn't been able to extract the answers that they had wanted, but now they had a name – TEPHRA – and this time, they were sure that the Veritserum would be successful. "Are you sure about that?"

Greyback snarled at the sight of the potion and Ginny allowed a small, detached smirk to cross her lips.

"I'm sure," Ginny said, playing absently with the vial, "you remember how… unpleasant it was last time we forced this down your throat. As such, in both your interests and in mine, it would be better for both of us if you could just tell me what you know, so that we can avoid any further unpleasantness." She smiled a fake, sweet smile. "Understand?"

There was a flicker of uncertainty that rushed across Greyback's face, but it disappeared so quickly that Ginny wasn't sure that she had really witnessed it.

"You have nothing to lose," she added carefully.

"Nothing to lose?" Greyback spat and he shifted in his pile of filth, the manacles that bound his hands and feet clanking on the floor. "You know nothing."

"Well," Ginny answered offhandedly, "I'll be knowing everything, regardless, and to me," she crouched down to his level, "it doesn't really matter whether it's under duress or not." She reached for the cork on the bottle and wrenched it off. Detachment, she reminded herself, and she swallowed dryly. Detachment is key. "So, then," she rolled onto her heels and stood up, "seeing as you're not saying anything of relevance right now, I'm gathering that you still want to do this the hard way?"

Greyback was silent and Ginny's expression hardened.

But even she couldn't hide the ever so slight shaking of her fingers, as she tipped the contents of the bottle down Greyback's throat.

* * *

Pietro's feet pounded into the belt of the treadmill, sweat dripping down his forehead and falling down his neck. He was trying to burn off the negative energy, the disconcerting anxiety that was still racking his body from yesterday's attack. But so far, he had been unsuccessful in his attempt.

He still couldn't believe what he had seen. Screams, debris, the sound of gunshots, whitely clothed and masked figures running amok. The chaos had reminded him of Sokovia and, he grimaced, it hadn't been in a good way. Not for the first time, Pietro wished that Clint were there.

Despite their initial frostiness, Pietro had grown to respect the archer and had grown to appreciate him even more. His witty jokes, dry comments, and strict training regime had struck a chord within Pietro that many others hadn't succeeded in finding. Clint had always listened, always understood what Pietro was saying, and perhaps most importantly, always been there for him.

But Clint wasn't here anymore. He had left after their attack on the HYDRA compound all of those months ago and he hadn't returned. Every now and again, Pietro would phone, but the calls were always short, with a lifeless sounding Clint on the other side of the line.

Pietro's feet pounded the belt even harder. Wasn't there a way to help him? A way to get Clint out of the deep depression that had fallen over him? Because from what he heard, and he hadn't heard very much, the hope of both his friends and family was slowly fading.

"Maximoff?"

Pietro jumped at the sound of his name and he turned curiously, surprised to see the worn out image of Tony Stark standing in the doorway. His hair was dishevelled and rough, his eyes marked with deep bruises, exposing his lack of sleep. The billionaire looked exhausted, and Pietro couldn't blame him.

"Stark," Pietro greeted.

Tony let the door slam behind him. "What are you doing here so early in the morning?"

"I'm running," Pietro said. "I thought that that would be obvious."

Stark scoffed. "Not a good time to be a smart ass, Maximoff."

Pietro sighed and pressed a button, slowing the pace of the treadmill. Stark wasn't his normal confidante, but something about the events from yesterday and Stark's broken expression made him consider his next words carefully. "I'm running because I can't sleep," he said quietly. "I keep seeing Sokovia in my head, keep feeling the bullets in my body, and after yesterday and what we discovered…" he hesitated, a bitter smile crossing his lips, "well, it's not something that is easy to comprehend."

Stark crossed the room, his steps haggard. "No," he muttered wearily. "It's not." He sat down slowly on one of the gym mats and flopped to the ground, closing his eyes. "Did you hear that Prewett went off to England to ask Greyback about TEPHRA?"

Pietro frowned, almost tripping over his feet. "Already?"

"Hopefully she can get something out of the bastard."

"Yeah," Pietro murmured, falling back into a regular rhythm. "Hopefully."

He knew that he had told her that he didn't want to know when she disappeared, but now a part of him was wishing that she had let him know before she had left. Especially after the brief moment of understanding that had passed between them the previous night.

It had taken them so long for them to get to the point that they were currently at and Pietro didn't want to lose the fragile bond that Ginny had formed with him. He sighed irritably and turned off the treadmill.

Just because he knew that she could handle herself didn't mean that he didn't worry.

* * *

"And?" Hermione jumped to her feet anxiously, as Ginny padded wearily into the common room back at the facility barely an hour later. The sun burned brightly outside, flooding the small room with light, and Ginny shied away from it, shielding her eyes. She had thought that several of the others would be there to see her – she firmly ignored the rapid image of Pietro that crossed through her mind – desperate to find out what Greyback had revealed, but the only people that were waiting, were Hermione and Luna. Ginny couldn't help but feel relieved at the realisation.

"It's as we feared," she murmured finally, sinking onto one of the oversized, soft couches. "HYDRA, along with wizards and witches, formed a partnership."

The two other girls fell still and Ginny could almost hear the cogs in their mind turning at her confirmation.

When Pietro had come to her last night with his grim admission, Ginny had been foolishly, desperately hoping that it wasn't true, that he and Hermione had been mistaken. But her hopes had been naïvely irrational and all of her fears and worries over the night had been well founded. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the couch. The draining chill from the prison of Azkaban still hadn't left her skin and she rubbed her arms viciously in an attempt to both scour herself from the remnants grey prison and to try and get some circulation back into her arms.

"Ginny?" Luna's soft voice broke the tense peace that had enveloped the common room.

"Hmm?" Ginny mumbled back, her eyes still closed. Maybe sleep would come now that she knew some of the answers that had plagued her mind the night before.

"There's someone else. Isn't there?" Luna asked plainly and Ginny sat up in sharp surprise. Luna's blue eyes were wide and strangely serious, as Ginny stared at her. "It's not just… HYDRA and people like us."

Ginny hesitated for moment, unsure as to whether she should just wait for the others, but eventually, she shook her head and breathed out in a loud sigh. Luna had an uncanny knack for discovering the things that remained unsaid and. "No, they're not."

"Who then?" Hermione demanded. "Who else is out there? We thought that it was just the wizards and witches and HYDRA."

Ginny ran a hand through her crumpled hair. "Inhumans," she uttered finally, turning to Hermione grimly. "HYDRA has also joined with the Inhumans." She shivered unconsciously at the word. She had heard of the Inhumans, seen and read the news reports about the powered individuals, but other than that, she barely knew a thing about them. The thought was oddly disconcerting and Ginny vowed to conduct some further research later in the day.

"Inhumans," Hermione said anxiously. "Are you absolutely certain?"

"Positive."

Hermione buried her head in her hands, hissing out a sigh of irritation. "I can't believe that we didn't see it before."

Ginny looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Remember when we were on our mission as a group, investigating one of Greyback's leads?"

Ginny nodded darkly. She wouldn't be forgetting that mission for a while.

"Do you remember the lab that we found? The scorch marks on the floor, the rips in the walls, the old blood?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at?"

Hermione jumped to her feet and furiously started pacing the length of the small room. "We thought that HYDRA had been testing wizards and witches – there was a broken wand on the floor, but what if it wasn't HYDRA testing wizards? What if it was HYDRA testing both Inhumans and wizards?"

"It's definitely possible," a new voice from the doorway said, and the girls' glances snapped to Draco Malfoy, who was sauntering into the small room, his brow creased in concentration. "But why? Why would they do that?"

"To gain a better understanding of the science behind us," Hermione jumped in impatiently. "That's obvious."

Malfoy scowled at her. "I know that, Granger. What I'm asking, though, is whether or not they were being experimented on _together._ "

Hermione's eyes widened in sudden comprehension and Ginny's gaze switched between the two uncertainly. "You may be right," Hermione breathed. "If so, then we could have something much more dangerous on our hands."

"I don't get it," Ginny interrupted irritably. "How could this be more dangerous than it already is?"

Malfoy sneered at her in derision and Ginny glared back. "Try and catch up, Weasley. But seeing, as you don't understand, I'll try spelling it out for you, nice and slow."

"Very kind," Ginny muttered.

"I'm a kind guy," he replied flippantly and he smirked. "Now, imagine both a wizard or a witch and one of these… Inhumans being tested – HYDRA is trying to find out why they're different, right?"

"Right." Ginny fought to keep the frown off her face at Malfoy's patronising behaviour.

"So, they conduct a load of experiments. Now imagine HYDRA, an organisation that wants nothing but-"

"Power," Ginny finished for him. "Get on with it."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Fine. And now HYDRA, a power hungry organisation, wants to try and extend their control to try and show their dominance to the people of the world. And seeing as they have two vastly powerful individuals in front of them, what do you reckon they are going to try and do with them?"

Ginny opened her mouth, a retort on her lips, when the pieces of the puzzle snapped together. Her eyes widened comically. Surely not. Surely that wasn't possible. "No." She turned to Hermione incredulously. "That can't be possible."

Hermione shrugged grimly. "It could be, and that's really all that matters."

* * *

 **Hey guys! I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter!**

 **Thank you for all of the love that this story has been receiving and a special shout out to my guest reviewers: Becca and Guest. Your words are very much appreciated! Also a huge thank you to everyone else who is still with me thus far!**

 **Less than a month until the start of university now. I'm getting nervous but am excited as well!**

 **Anyway, I hope that you all have a great week and if you see any errors within this chapter, then please let me know.**

 **HC**


	33. Chapter 33

You carry both lightning and thunder between your bones and soul.  
Become the storm you are hiding from, a hurricane does not run from the rain.

 _Nikita Gill_

* * *

The girl shivered and she wrapped the jacket that they had given her more firmly around her body. The sky was dark and angry and she could feel the spray of the waves, even though she had be at least two hundred meters away from the rocky shore. She scowled to herself. Why was she here? Why had they taken her here? What did they even want her to do? She had gone to meet with them in that wretched room, so that she could get those very questions answered, not so that they would give her a message and a time of the place where she was to meet them the following day.

"Are you coming?" her guide murmured gruffly to her.

She nodded stiffly in response and kept shuffling onwards, her shoes slipping on the slimy stones. She squinted into the distance, but saw nothing. She bit back a curse. For all she knew, her guide could abandon her out here in the horrendous coast and she would have no idea how to get back.

She never should have agreed to this.

Another gust of wind pushed her forwards and she nearly stumbled, only managing to stay upright due to the fierce glare that her guide sent her.

"We are here," he croaked suddenly, his voice almost lost in the gale. "Come here."

She looked at him suspiciously.

"Come here!" he barked again. "We only have a small window, girl."

Doubt filling her eyes, she reluctantly stepped forwards, grasping her hand into the outstretched, wrinkled fingers of her companion.

She didn't even know what happened next. One moment, she was standing on one of the most horrific beaches she had ever been on, and the next, she was standing in a damp, underground cell that reeked of mould and seawater. She resisted the urge to vomit, as she wrenched her hand from her guide's.

"What did you do to me?" she spat, breathing heavily, fear permeating her body. She should never have agreed to do this, whatever it was.

"Me?" he laughed. "I did nothing to you. You are simply in a different place than before."

She looked around herself uneasily. "How did I get here?"

Her guide's eyes glittered. "If you survive this, then I may tell you."

She swallowed, finally seeing this entire situation for what it was. What it had always been. "Is this a test?"

"Of sorts."

"And," she held her breath, "what if I refuse to do what you want?"

"Then," he shrugged, "you die. And no one will notice. Or care. People are easily forgotten in this place."

She paled and she fidgeted with the sleeves of her jacket. It was now soaked with seawater. "And… and if I accept?"

"Then you will be accepted among us."

"Us?"

Her guide ignored her question. "Do you agree to the task?"

"What task?" There were too many unanswered questions, too many things that were unknown. She wanted to back out, wanted to get out of the stone room, but something told her that the man standing in front of her was serious. If she disagreed, then he wouldn't let her leave this place alive.

"Do you agree to the task?" he asked again, his words sharper. "I will only ask you again. Do you agree to complete the task?"

"I…" she whispered. Her thoughts were frantic. She didn't know what to do. If she didn't do this, then she would surely die. If she did, then there was the possibility of life. And she had always supported the idea of living. "Yes," she said quickly. "I'll do it."

The mouth on her guide twisted up into a cruel smile. "Good. In that case the, I need you to kill someone and I need you to do it now."

* * *

Wanda was tired. She was tired of the training. She was tired of the constant stares and for being the reason why furtive glances and whispers followed her down the halls. She was tired of being mentioned in the news and being recognised in the city whenever she had a day off.

Ginny had tried to help, had tried to be there, but Wanda no longer saw as much of the redhead as she once had. Instead, Ginny was off doing her own thing, with her old friends, doing training and missions that Wanda, most of the time, was unaware of. Wanda understood. She really did. After all, that was what being an Avenger, even a secret one, was all about. It was about going on missions – whether private or public – doing endless rounds of training, and keeping secrets for the greater good. But Wanda hadn't had a proper conversation with Ginny in at least two weeks and she was beginning to feel starved for one.

She wanted to ask more questions about magic, wanted to tell her about her desires to go and see some of the magical world in person. She wanted to tell someone about the new feelings that she was developing without fear of judgement.

But she couldn't.

Of course, she always had Vision and her brother. Vision had always attempted to help her, and most of the time, he was very good at it. He was able to keep her entertained for hours on end, whether it was through him asking curious questions about the planet or about getting her to laugh. And as for her brother, well, he wasn't the most patient of people, nor the most tolerant and she felt, with the introduction of so many people, that she and her brother no longer had the bond that they had once had.

She sighed and lay back on the couch, letting the tension ease out of her muscles. Sometimes, she missed the days when it had just been her and Pietro, running and dancing under the sun and the rain, and talking about any and everything. She missed their private jokes and even their childish games, which had gotten them in trouble on multiple occasions. Today, though, their lives were filled with distractions. For her, her training, the Avengers themselves, and her abilities, which continued to both surprise her and frighten her every day, distracted her from the more simple things. For Pietro, it was much the same, with the added addition of Ginny.

She smirked quietly to herself. Pietro hadn't been this enamoured with a girl since he was thirteen. Kristina, if Wanda recalled correctly, had been her name. She had been the same age as Pietro, with big doe-like eyes, and blonde hair that cascaded down her back 'in a golden waterfall' – those had been Pietro's words, not hers. She had been loud, outgoing, and stubborn as a mule, and the moment that Pietro had seen her, he had been convinced that he was in love. He would try to bring her small items that he had taken from the market and spend the coins that they found in the street on iced buns. He had once even stolen flowers out of the garden of a particularly unfriendly neighbour just to try to get her to notice him.

But Kristina had always rejected him, although, Wanda mused, she had taken that iced bun that one time, which had resulted in Pietro swaggering around the place for a whole day and generally acting like he owned the whole place… But not long after that, Kristina moved away, having finally been claimed by one of her distant relatives. Pietro had been heartbroken, moping around the city for an entire week, and swearing that he would never fall in love with a girl again.

And for a long time, he hadn't. He had flings, and crushes, and went out on dates, and did a whole manner of other things that Wanda really didn't want to think about, but he hadn't allowed himself to fall in love.

But now, Wanda was sure that he had. She saw the way his eyes would linger on Ginny whenever she was in the room and the way that he would always try and sit next to her. She saw his silly smiles whenever he did something that made Ginny laugh and the way his eyes would soften at her appearance. How could she not?

But what she didn't see was Ginny's reciprocation of her brother's feelings and that made Wanda worry. Her brother had already been hurt enough times in life and he didn't deserve to be punished again. She made a mental note to track Ginny down a bit later and bring the matter up with her.

Pursing her lips, she nodded firmly to herself. That's what she would do. She owed it to both of them.

"Wanda?"

Wanda started, her neck stretching towards the doorway in surprise. "Steve." She glanced quizzically at her watch, making sure that she wasn't late for the morning's training session. "What's up?"

"Ginny's back," Steve replied, his blue eyes grim. "And we think that everyone should be there to hear what she has to say. We're all in the main conference room."

Wanda found herself nodding, as she pushed herself slowly to her feet. Magic. Again. Ever since Ginny's reveal, it was all the Avengers Initiative could think about. When Wanda had found out, she had felt privileged to be a part of a secret so life changing and important, but now that everyone knew, she no longer felt as honoured as she once had been, and she almost wished that it could all go back to the way that it had been before. But she, perhaps better than most people, knew the constraints of time.

Her eyes wandered to the stack of books that Ginny had lent her on the floor. Hogwarts: A History sat on top of the stack, its picture showing a dark castle, shifting clouds, and bright stars. She had read that book several times already, imagining what it would be like to actually go to the school and see the different rooms and halls in person…

"Wanda." Steve's voice was sharper this time. "We should get going."

Wanda nodded and with a sigh, followed Steve out of her room. It was a nice day, she mused, as they walked through large patches of sunlight that shone through the glass windows overhead. There was barely a cloud in the sky.

"You okay?" Steve's voice broke through her thoughts once again. "You seem distracted."

"So do you," Wanda retorted defensively. "Still thinking about that friend that you need to find?"

"Wanda…" Steve cautioned, his body tensing minimally beside hers.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not in your head, Steve, but it's still obvious. Have you gotten any closer to finding out where they are?"

"No," Steve muttered and he looked at her reproachfully, "but at the moment, I think that we all have bigger problems."

The conference room was already full when Wanda arrived and she ducked her head, as she sat down in the first available seat that she saw. God, she hated being late. Ever since she had been young, she had always hated to be the last one into a room.

She glanced around the faces and noted, with some surprise, that Shacklebolt Kingsley was there again, his brown eyes pinched and stern. He arched an eyebrow in response to Wanda's stare and she quickly looked away, her eyes falling on Maria instead. The agent was standing off to the side, her faithful tablet firmly in her hands, and she was glaring unhappily at Fury, who was sitting at the head of the table.

He looked like he had aged since the last time that she had seen him – there was a tiredness to his posture that Wanda hadn't yet seen on the former director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and she wondered what he had been doing recently. Obviously, if the bags under his eyes were anything to go by, he hadn't been sprinkling flowers and sparkles at children's Birthday parties, and she snorted to herself at the thought. Just imagining Fury carrying a flower basket was almost too much to comprehend.

"Right," Fury said, sitting up suddenly in his seat and he gestured to Ginny, who was leaning tiredly against a wall. "Prewett, would you tell everyone what you told me?"

And she did.

* * *

"Hybrids?" Tony said incredulously, pacing irritably around the room. "You can't be serious."

"Maybe we aren't," Hermione shrugged. "After all, we don't know for certain. We only know that it's a possibility."

"But," Fury added, sharing a snide, knowing glance with Maria, "we know for sure that that possibility is very high."

Tony fell silent, as he surveyed the two agents sitting in front of him, his expression accusing. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at them. "Right," he said. "What is it that you're not telling us?"

"I don't tell you a lot of things, Stark," Fury muttered. "So, you'll have to be more specific."

"Yeah, but I have a habit of finding out anyway," Tony retorted. "It's the way I do things. So, you could either tell me whatever it is you know about what this current case is related to, or I'll be hacking into your servers. Either way, I'll find out what it is."

Fury scowled and Tony smirked in triumph – it always took at least a day to erase all of Tony's hidden memes and videos from their database and it was time that Fury would prefer not to waste.

"Fine," Fury said shortly and he leaned backwards, resting his hands behind his head. "A little while back, we had an… incident. Someone decided to experiment with Inhuman and human DNA, only to form what can really only be described as monsters." He gestured to Maria, who nodded and tapped something on her datapad. Barely a second later, a hideous picture, showing a malformed, drooping face, with empty, shadowed eyes, appeared on the main screen, resulting in gasps of disgust and expressions of distaste around the room.

"What the hell is that?" Sam demanded.

"That, Mr Wilson," Fury said, "is a Primitive. They were once humans, could once think and feel like us."

"And, you think," Wanda broke in hesitantly, staring with wide eyes at the image, "that creatures like this could have been formed if what Hermione thinks happened is possible?"

"That's the thing, Miss Maximoff," Fury said. "I really don't know anything. I just like to pretend that I do."

"And if they succeeded?" Tony asked. "What happens if HYDRA succeeded in their experiments?"

"Then," Vision said slowly, "we would have a potential calamity on our hands. However, having read the reports on the Inhumans and after evaluating the abilities of the… witches and wizards in the room, the level of power contained in an individual would be too much to control. Not too mention the level of genetic engineering that would be required to complete such a task."

"So, you're saying that it would be impossible?"

"Very little is impossible," Vision replied. "But a change such as this would be, in my opinion, too much for the human body to tolerate for any length of time."

"Vision has a point," Natasha agreed simply. "And even if it were to be initially successful, then I'm pretty sure that the conditions wouldn't be able to be continued for long."

"Okay, okay," Pietro interrupted impatiently. "But let's just say that these hybrids are out there right now. How do we stop them? Is there a cure that we could use?"

"We'd have to find one to find out," Hermione frowned. "But maybe something could be synthesised. If not, then I suppose that we would have to take them down the old-fashioned way."

"Do we know anything else about the situation?" Steve asked. "Do we know who the scientists are? The witches and wizards involved? Maybe even a few of the Inhumans? If we have a solid lead, and we barely have anything right now, then we may be able to take this somewhere."

"At the moment, Greyback and TEPHRA are our only solid leads," Malfoy muttered.

"But Greyback," Ginny said, "even under the influence of the Veritaserum was only able to give us very limited information on TEPHRA and who they actually are. He wasn't able to give us names or locations or anything like that. In fact, the only thing that he was really only able to do, was confirm that HYDRA, the leading force behind this entire mess, had employed the services of both Inhumans along with other wizards and witches. I mean, we could go back to the lab that we investigated, but we already combed through the entire place. There was, and I'm pretty sure that there still is, nothing left."

* * *

They trickled out of the conference room, Wanda only catching Fury's quiet mention of 'Fitzsimmons' and someone else named 'Coulson' to Maria, as she left. She glanced at her watch, entering the bright corridor. It had felt like she had been in that conference room for hours, but in reality, only a mere forty-five minutes had passed.

A very crazy, long forty-five minutes, she added to herself wryly. Why was it that time was always so selective? She sighed and brushed her hair back, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her familiar, black cardigan. Time had a bad habit of doing that.

She started heading back to her room, following Hermione and Ginny through the endless corridors. Wanda had never really talked to Hermione, didn't know too much about her, but Ginny trusted her, so Wanda liked to think that she did to.

"Ginny," she called out suddenly, remembering the task that she had set herself only a little earlier that day. "I need to talk to you about something."

Ginny turned around and smiled a small, tired at her. "Sure. Hermione," she said, "I'll see you later?"

The brunette nodded. "Sure." And she turned away, leaving Ginny and Wanda alone in the hallway.

"What's up?" Ginny asked curiously. "Is it about the," she grimaced, "hybrids? Because I really don't know anything about that at all. Or how anything like that could possibly work. You'd be better talking with Hermione on that subject."

Wanda shook her head in amusement. "No, it's not about them. It's… It's about something else. Or rather, someone else." She exhaled deliberately. "To be more specific, it's about my brother."

Ginny looked confused. "Your brother? What about him?"

Wanda fidgeted. How could she say this? Perhaps a direct approach would work best. She nodded firmly to herself. With Ginny, direct was best. "Do you like him?"

"Do I…" Ginny stopped in her tracks. "What?"

"Do you like him?" Wanda repeated, furrowing her brow. "Because I don't know if you've noticed, but he cares for you. A lot, even."

"I…" she faltered. "He does?"

"It's obvious," Wanda said with a roll of her eyes. "Everyone knows it, but I don't think that you've answered my question."

"I… I don't know," she stuttered. "I guess that I haven't really thought about it."

"Well," Wanda said softly, and she laid a hand on Ginny's arm before turning away, "please do. I don't want him getting hurt. Let me know what you decide."

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter and if you spotted any grammatical errors, please let me know and I will get on it straight away.**

 **Thank you to all of the reviews, favourites, and follows this week! The support is amazing. Also, a special shout out to my guest reviewers this week: Becca, Guest, and Guestsktjc.**  
 **To Becca: Thanks for your continuous support! Your reviews are very much appreciated and I love reading them every week :-)**  
 **To Guest: Thanks for your review and I hope that some of your questions were answered in today's chapter!**  
 **To Guestsktjc: Thanks for the heads up! I will definitely look out for that now in the future!**

 **I hope that you all have a great week!**

 **HC**


	34. Chapter 34

.

* * *

She has been through hell. So believe when I say, fear her when she looks into a fire and smiles.

 _E. Corona_

* * *

She crept through the corridors, holding back the shivers that tried to wrack her body to its core. With every step she took, she swore that the air became more treacherous, increasingly forbidden, as she wove her way into the building that the shadowed man had brought her to. A wail sounded in the distance and she gulped, wondering, not for the first time, what had gotten into her to ever accept their proposition in the first place.

Unfortunately, she thought savagely to herself, the answer was obvious. Money. Ever since she had been a kid, it had always been about the money. Could she get money for this, could she get money for that? Well, she snorted, her parents had always told her that her greed would land in her in the deepest pile of shit imaginable, and they had been, most annoyingly, correct.

Because what she was in right now, was definitely a pile of shit. With flies on top and everything.

A stone rattled, the sound reverberating through the icy hallway, and she spun around sharply, her dark hair whipping her face, her heart moving to her throat. She breathlessly scanned the shadows, waiting to see if there was a silent shift or sidestep, but there was nothing, and the darkness stayed motionless.

Her eyes lingered on the steps behind her a second longer, before she released a slow, relieved hiss of air. It was just an overreaction, she assured herself. It was just her imagination. She had nothing to be worried about. Nothing to worry about except completing the mission that he had given her. With a determined nod of her head, she turned back to the worn, dark path in front of her, her shoes slipping on a patch of ice under her feet.

Despite her invisibility, she stuck to the shadows and the crevices in the damp walls, breathing shallowly and silently. Every now and again, there was a rustle of wind or a scream of pain, heightening her fear and her anticipation. A loud clap of thunder echoed in the distance and she jumped, falling against one of the slimy stonewalls. Coward, she told herself, as she brushed herself off, attempting to dismiss her terror. She had one simple task and she couldn't even complete it without acting like a child.

She walked determinedly on, wondering when she would come across the object of her mission, when she saw them. She paled in dread.

Rows of cells, twisted numbers printed on the outside of the doors, lined the broken edges of the hallway. She swallowed hard, snarls, scratches, screeches ringing from behind the barred gates. It was just like the man had described: vile, foul, and filthy. The scent of shit mingled with the stench of body odour permeated the air and she gagged, bile rising in her throat. She leant on her knees, inhaling through her mouth, trying to stifle the choking coughs that rose in her throat. A deep unease dropped its way into her bones and she shuddered, rising once again.

She had a mission to complete, she reminded herself harshly. And if she didn't complete it, then that would be the end. Of everything. She wouldn't be able to see her two cats, Maisy and Plum, ever again. She wouldn't be able to apologise to her parents. She would never be able to say goodbye to her brother, never be able to tell him the truths that he deserved to know. No one would ever know her story or remember her life. Hell, if she failed, then she wouldn't even have a grave.

She cursed silently and flung her hands up in irritation. She hated death threats and the way that they made her evaluate her life choices.

Nonetheless, she kept going. She kept placing one foot in front of the other, keeping her head down and her breath firmly held. The dagger that the man had given her almost seemed to become heavier at her side, as she approached the end of the stinking corridor and this time, she almost sagged willingly against one of the walls.

The sooner that she could get out of here, the healthier it would be for her, she decided grimly.

* * *

Ginny's thoughts were chaotic, her head all but spinning, as she watched Wanda disappear down the hallway. She glanced down at her shivering fingers and curled them tightly into her palms, ignoring the loud thudding of her heart in her chest. Why? How? What had she done? She groaned and placed her head in her hands, rubbing her temples in confusion and wishing that Wanda hadn't retreated so quickly.

What on earth had she done, especially considering the women that he had been with? All of them, she was sure, were much more than she could ever be. Stunningly beautiful, with white smiles, soft hair, and gentle curves... She scoffed to herself and brushed her hair, which was in desperate need of a wash, behind her ears. They were everything that she wasn't.

She was rude, brisk, standoffish, and stubborn. She was scarred from battles long fought and eventually won. She had lost so much, but gained so little. And what was more was that she had nothing left to give.

She tossed her head shakily and told herself to get a grip. There were other things to worry about right now, instead of a silver haired speedster who apparently had a thing for her. But why did this always happen at the most inopportune of times? First, it had been Harry and his awful timing and now, apparently, Pietro was following suit.

Oh, bloody hell.

And now it meant that she had to analyse her own feelings, feelings that she had locked away and buried for weeks, towards one of the most arrogant, idiotic, tenacious, kind-hearted, loyal bastards she had ever had the opportunity to meet. She wanted to stamp her foot in frustration, like she had done when she had been a little girl, but she was no longer little and she was no longer a child.

She breathed in deeply. She was going to have to deal with this like an adult. Calmly, professionally, and honestly, but it wasn't going to be able to be now.

Because she had too many other things to worry about. Like potential Inhuman hybrids and HYDRA and following leads and trying to find the answers to questions that she wasn't sure that she was going to be able to receive.

"Prewett!"

Maria's sharp voice cut through her thoughts and Ginny turned, almost relieved for someone to break her muddled mind. She vaguely wondered how long she had been standing in the middle of the corridor for, before deciding that it didn't really matter.

"What's up?"

"We need to talk to you," she replied briskly.

Ginny paused. "Now?"

"Yes," Maria said in irritation. "Now."

With a reluctant nod, Ginny followed Maria back into the conference room. It was empty, save for the presence of Kingsley, Fury, and Maria, and she raised an eyebrow at them sceptically. What was so important that they could only talk with her and no one else?

"What's this all about?" she asked finally.

Fury got to his feet, placing his hands behind his back. "We want you to go back to the lab."

"Who? All of us?"

"No," Fury said. "Just you. Or rather, it will be you accompanying a specialised team."

"A team," Ginny scoffed. "And which team is this?"

"A very good one," Fury said, his single eye boring into her own.

"And no one else can know about this because…?"

"Because they have no right to know," Fury muttered. "And as for your friends, while they are vital to the progression of this investigation, they are only temporary, hence why they can't know about this either."

Ginny opened her mouth to retort, but Fury cut her off, stopping her with a glare.

"You, however," he said, "are permanent. You're committing to being both a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and an agent for your own people. And if you decide to stay with us, you will become the liaison between the Wizarding world and the Avengers."

A liaison. Fury's admission fell like a stone in her stomach. A pawn in a greater game. That's what she would be used for. A burning anger began to rise in her blood and her hands clenched into fists by her sides. Arrogance. All of these organisations, S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA, even the bloody Ministry of Magic, were just blinded by their arrogance and their assumptions of those beneath them.

It had to stop.

"Your friends, however, have made no such commitment and until they say otherwise, then I'll assume that they intend to disappear after this fucking mess is over."

"So, that's all we're here for," she said flatly. "We're here to help you clean up your messes and the only reason I'm here," she continued, eyes flashing, "is to become a liaison for you. Tell me, Fury, did I understand that correctly?"

He shrugged, a notion that was all but a slap in the face. "I would say that there's a little more to it than that, but yes. Essentially, you did."

Her nails were now biting so hard into the skin of her palms that she felt them puncture the skin. "What are we then to you?" she spat. "Expendable?"

"You're assets," he replied calmly. "That's what you've always been."

She laughed hollowly and she saw Shacklebolt wince out of the corner of her eye. This was probably not the way that he had imagined this meeting going. "And what about choices? Our right to know what we've gotten ourselves into? What about that?"

Fury snorted derisively. "You don't get rights, Prewett. Not when the way of the world as we know it rests on our shoulders. You don't get rights when we're responsible for the rights of many others. What we do isn't a choice. It's a need. I thought that you, of all people, would understand that sacrifice."

"And I do," Ginny replied stiffly, seething anger still boiling in her veins. "I lived with those sacrifices for years, but what we do is still, ultimately, a choice, and I no longer know if the people out there," she gestured towards the doorway, "the Avengers, my own friends, know anything about what is truly going on as of right now. I'm in the dark on so many things. TEPHRA, HYDRA itself, even the Inhumans, despite the news coverage that they've recently been receiving. You've even called me in here for a secret meeting, for Merlin's sake, and arranged for me to meet people that you don't even want the Avengers to know about, when out of everyone, I'm probably the one that you trust the least."

"Ever thought that there might be a reason for that, Prewett?" Fury growled.

"There always is. It simply depends on the strength that that reason has and whether or not I think that it's worth it. So tell me, Fury," she said, leaning deliberately back into the chair, "what's your reason for me, and not anyone else, going to meet with this team."

Fury's glare turned to ice, but Ginny didn't allow herself to shrink back from his gaze. She was done with being intimidated by people who thought that they were better than everyone else.

* * *

Draco sauntered down the halls, his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face. He grinned at one of the female agents, a slight, blonde haired thing, who blushed and turned away. His smirk grew ever wider.

Merlin, he liked it here. He liked the routine, the peace, the people, and perhaps most importantly, the anonymity. Here, he could walk around the compound and not be recognised. He wasn't stared at in suspicion or in resentment and he wasn't treated with disdain or disgust. He could walk into the cafeteria or any other area of the compound and be treated equally and fairly.

He stepped outside, into the sunlight, and relished the warmth that landed on his skin. A part of him could understand why Ginny had chosen such a place to live after the war and he wondered whether or not something like what she had done would have ever been able to work for him.

But Ginny had always been stronger than him, both in determination and in willpower and it was, he surmised, probably the only reason as to why she had been able to hold out for so long without going insane. Nonetheless, it was still surprising, given her nature, that she had run away in the first place. He would have thought that running away would have been for cowards like himself or for those who had sat by idly whilst the war raged on around them. But running away wasn't for war heroes, like the famous Ginny Weasley.

Then again, staying put wasn't for deserters such as himself, either. All of those who had dared to desert towards the end of the war had fled, never to be heard of or seen again. But he had stayed. He had stayed and endured the nasty words, the curses, the cries of grief and rage, and his punishment for being allied with Lord Voldemort. More than once, he had wanted to give up. He had wanted to run away and force himself to forget the horrors that he had committed, but that was just the point. Because no matter how much he tried to forget, history never would and that in itself, meant that it was all but pointless to escape to a new place.

He shook his head in grim amusement. It would seem that they both defied the stereotypes that were placed upon them.

Glancing around the massive training fields, he sighed. There was a class running through an obstacle course on one end and another small group of recruits listening attentively to Steve Rogers, their eyes wide.

He snorted softly to himself, turning his head away. Steve Rogers. The perfect example of the ingenuity of Muggles. From what he had heard about the super soldier, he would even go as far as to say that the Muggles had all but conquered death with nothing more than a few vials filled with chemicals. And that was only one thing of many.

Voldemort had been a fool to think that he would have been able to beat them, he realised with a start. But he himself had been a fool to believe it.

"Hey! Malfoy!"

Malfoy groaned in annoyance and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was it that peace never lasted?

Pietro poked him obnoxiously on the shoulder and Malfoy whirled around, wishing that he could wipe the snide grin from Pietro's face.

"What?" he snapped finally.

Pietro raised an eyebrow. "Someone's in a bad mood this morning."

"Well, I have no reason to be in a good mood, do I?"

Pietro was briefly silent. "I suppose that you may have a point there."

Malfoy scoffed. "Of course I have a point. I always have one," he drawled. "So, why are you bothering me? Or did you not see that I wanted to be left alone?"

Pietro assumed an affronted look. "How was I supposed to know that you wanted to be left alone? It's not like there's a sign on your head."

"There shouldn't need to be. And don't you have… training to do?"

Pietro shrugged flippantly. "I'm already finished."

"Of course you are," Malfoy muttered.

"And I came to ask you a question."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, already seeing where this conversation was heading. "Let me guess. Your question is about my lovely redheaded friend called Ginny."

Pietro scowled. "Fine, I won't ask it."

"No, go ahead," Malfoy chortled. "I want to see where this is going."

Pietro glared at him. "I-"

"Pietro," Malfoy said dramatically. "You should ask her out."

Pietro stopped in his movements, almost tripping over his feet. "What?" he spluttered.

"Ginny," Malfoy said in exasperation. "You should just ask her out. She's never going to get the message otherwise. She can be quite thick, that one. Not to mention, with everything else that's going on right now, she's more distracted than usual."

"But-"

"But what?" Malfoy scoffed, "The worst that can happen is rejection and let's face it. That isn't going to happen."

"How can you be so sure," Pietro asked suspiciously.

"It's written all over her face, just like it's written over yours. Granted," he added, "you're way more obvious than she is, but nonetheless."

Pietro gaped at him.

Malfoy smirked back. "You're welcome. In fact-"

"Draco!" a voice called from across the field.

"Merlin, now what?" he grumbled. "Can't I get any bloody peace?" And he frowned at Hermione. "Hermione. Can't you see that I'm in the-"

"It's Greyback," she interrupted breathlessly. "He's dead. He was stabbed."

* * *

 **Hey everyone! A bit of a later chapter today, I know, but I found this chapter ridiculously hard to write, especially Ginny's reaction. Anyway, if any of you found any mistakes or anything in this chapter, then please let me know and I'll fix it ASAP!**

 **Thanks to all of the new favourites, follows, and reviews! You're all amazing. Special shout out to my lovely guest reviewers: Becca, and Guest. Your words are always very much appreciated.**

 **I hope that you all have a fantastic week!**

 **H.C.**


	35. Chapter 35

Whatever you do, don't run back to what broke you.

 _Frank Ocean_

* * *

She charged through the corridors, her breath harsh in her chest, her thoughts whirling and muddled by panic. Her feet pounded against the slippery floor and she stumbled She charged through the corridors, her breath harsh in her chest, her thoughts whirling and muddled by panic. Her feet pounded against the slippery floor and she stumbled over a patch of ice, her shoes almost skidding from underneath her. Her hands were cold and she could almost feel the presence of… something else following her as she twisted and turned throughout the prison.

Where was he? He had said that he was going to come and get her once he knew that the job was finished. And it was finished, there was no denying it. Hell, she had seen the blood of the man that she had been hired to kill slide down his gaunt chest, as she had thrown the dagger through the bars of his cell and into his heart with deadly accuracy. So where was the bastard?

Or was he already gone, laughing and chortling at her ignorance and stupidity of accepting this job in the first place?

A bolt of fear struck her, as she realized that she might truly be all alone in this gods-forsaken place. Because she couldn't stay invisible forever – she could already feel herself tire at having kept it up for the last hour and once she was visible once again…

She didn't even allow herself to think about what would happen should she be discovered. Unbidden, the screams and wails that had filled the cramped corridors on her way to the man's cell filled her head, and she swallowed hard.

Forcing the thoughts of capture from her mind, she peered around the next bend furtively. It was empty, like all the others had been, and she hurtled down it. She hadn't run like this for ages, she thought, her exhaustion and the stitch in her side threatening to get the better of her. She should have practiced more, but then again, she'd had no need to run in a while with her invisibility conveniently helping her to escape every place unnoticed.

She skidded around another corner and almost cried in relief at the familiar shadowed figure who was stooped over at the end of the hallway. He was here. He hadn't forgotten about her. She was still going to be able to leave here alive. But a moment later, her relief turned to rage as she recalled the panic and the fear that he had no doubt willingly caused her.

"What the hell?" she whispered furiously, her cheeks flushing in anger, her fatigue now long forgotten. "You said that you would be there after the job was done?"

"I'm here now, aren't I?" he murmured back and he reached for her arm. She could hear the triumphant smile in his voice and she frowned, shifting nervously.

"They're not far behind," he added and his grip on her skin tightened.

"Who's not far behind?" she asked, but her voice was lost in the chaos, as the pair disappeared with a sharp 'crack'.

Not even a second later, she stumbled to her knees, coughing and spluttering, her head spinning in dizziness and her stomach rolling with nausea. She groaned pathetically and crawled back to her feet, her hand supporting her aching head. At least she hadn't thrown up this time, she consoled herself miserably.

"Honestly, dude, what on earth is it that you do?" she muttered, looking around her new surroundings with interest. "And where the frick are we?"

She was standing in the living room of what appeared to be a little house. The lights were off and the curtains had been drawn, but the afternoon sunshine was still enough to fill the small space with light. It was nice, she thought with appreciation, walking over to the squished brown sofa and sinking into it with a sigh. It was almost like the last hours had been a dream, she mused, as she allowed her eyes to close

"We're in a safe house," he replied finally and she opened her eyes with a lazy sneer. "There's a first aid kit in the kitchen and a bathroom down to your right. Up the stairs, you'll find a laptop and a set of instructions that you will follow precisely."

She sat up incredulously. She had thought, that after whatever hell she had just been through, that that would be it. That she would be a part of the society that offered an enormous salary and great bonuses. "But… but I killed who you wanted me to kill! That was the deal!" she protested.

"You did," and the man's eyes glittered from under his hood. She bit back a shiver. "But I don't recall there ever being a 'deal'. Besides," he scoffed, "what you did today was only the first part. There's a second mission that you must complete before we decide upon anything."

She arched an eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest defensively. "Oh, yeah? Well, what if I decide that I don't want to be worthy? And there was no mention of a me completing a second task when your lackey came and tracked me down."

"Well, if you choose not to complete the mission, then all I can promise you, is that your next home will be in a box," he spat. "I suggest that you follow the instructions and that you rest up, because, if our intelligence is correct, you will need to be carrying them out this very afternoon. If you succeed, then you will be a part of our… establishment. If you do not…"

She gulped and she saw yellow teeth behind his lips as his lips pulled up into a sadistic smile.  
"… then I do not need to remind you of what will happen."

* * *

Fury was not happy. In fact, he was the very definition of unhappy. Prewett, after some pushing and some revealing of minute pieces of information, had finally relented to meeting with Coulson's team at the lab, but she hadn't made it easy. She had resisted, prodded, and played with fire for nearly the entire conversation, and if she had been anyone else, Fury would have grounded her for months.

But she wasn't an average agent-in-training. Hell, she wasn't even an average person. Instead, she was a gods-damned witch with a power that could level cities, magic that could literally raise the dead from their graves. That didn't mean, however, that he would forget about what she had done, and he made a mental note that she would get what she deserved after this mess was straightened out.

Nonetheless, he was grudgingly impressed by her audacity and her hard-headed stubbornness. Barton would be proud, he thought moodily, and he wondered if the girl had received a few tips from the agent who – to this day – remained the only person who was able to fully piss Fury off. Natasha had gotten up on his shit list a few times, and Maria as well, but Clint, ever since he had stepped into the training compound on Day One, had always been right at the damned top.

Most of the time, Fury didn't mind as much as he pretended to – obstinate people, for some reason, always made the best agents. But only so long as they knew the limits. He'd had agents, brilliant ones, that had pushed past those limits and he'd had no choice but to let them go. He knew where some of them had gone, where they had ended up, and he was glad that he had fired them when he had.

"Sir?" Maria's voice echoed around the otherwise empty room and Fury glared at her.

"What?" he snapped.

She hesitated, still looking down at the screen in her hands. "I just received a text from Prewett."

Fury hissed in irritation at the mention of the redheaded witch. "And?" he muttered, rubbing his temple. "What does she want this time?"

"Their contact, Fenrir Greyback, was murdered. She doesn't say how it happened, only that the circumstances of the death were unusual. Shacklebolt's heading out to their prison now to get further information."

Fury's eyebrows creased. Murdered. He supposed that he should have seen it coming – Greyback had been the only weak link on HYDRA's side and for them, it was dangerous keeping him alive.

"Fuck."

"My thoughts exactly," Maria replied irritably. "I thought that he was in protective custody?"

"So did I," Fury scowled. "Well, now Prewett definitely needs to head out to that lab. How far out is Coulson?"

"Still three hours."

"I want them at the lab in two. And tell them and Prewett that the time of the meeting has been moved to 1600 hours for this afternoon."

Maria nodded, tapping at the keys on her screen, her expression one of concentration, as she typed out the necessary messages. "Do you think that they'll find anything that Prewett and her team missed last time?" she asked.

Fury snorted in response. "Fitzsimmons are bound to find something that fascinates them."

Maria snorted, and looked up from her tablet, the message now sent. "True."

* * *

Ginny stormed down the corridor, the remnants of anger still boiling through her veins. At least she had gotten a few straight answers from Fury this time, instead of the evasive, cryptic answers that he usually gave and for that, she was reluctantly grateful.

It didn't mean, though, that she was impressed with the extreme lengths that he went to in order to keep his precious secrets. From the way that it had sounded, this 'Phil Coulson' had been an agent whom everyone had admired and respected. To some extent, it even sounded like he agent had been a genuine friend to them and to Ginny, keeping the fact that he was still alive was disgustingly cruel, especially given everything that the Avengers had already been through.

For a brief moment, she entertained the idea of telling her teammates that their supposedly dead mentor was still alive, before deciding quickly against it. It had happened a while ago, she reasoned to herself. There was no need to go digging up buried feelings of guilt and regret after such a long time had passed.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she dug it out with an exasperated sigh. A message from Hermione, she mused, and she tapped on the text, curious to know what was so important that her friend would even consider using a phone. Her face paled as her eyes scanned the short words and she swore, as she deleted the text with a harsh tap.

Greyback was dead. Fantastic. Their only source of information, their only connection to what was happening right now, was gone. Her finger clenched in renewed annoyance and she shoved her phone back into her jacket pocket. How on earth had that happened? Greyback had been placed in Azkaban for Merlin's sake! Hell, even Kingsley himself had cast the wards around Greyback's cell to make sure that there was no feasible way for him to escape.

Unless he hadn't escaped.

A cold shiver ran down Ginny's spine at the thought. But how would have someone else have gotten in? Getting into Azkaban was all but suicide.

Her phone buzzed again and her distracted expression became quizzical as she quickly read over Maria's curt message. They'd moved up the meeting time, she realized with a start of surprise. But it was probably a good thing, given the loss of their only contact. Glancing at her watch, she started making her way towards her room, wanting to go and repack the small, black bag – courtesy of Hermione – that she was now taking with her whenever she left the compound, before she left. Hermione really was a genius, Ginny smiled, as she vaguely turned a corner, only to stop in her tracks.

Pietro was standing at the end of the hallway, his expression lost, his hair ruffled from a recent training session. Ginny blinked at his unusually tired expression and she found a small rush of unfamiliar concern bloom in her chest. She knew that look all too well, having seen Harry wear the same one after a particularly rough nightmare or stressful day.

She made a step towards him, intending to go up to him, but she stopped mid-step, as Wanda's words from earlier came rushing back to her. Colour filled her cheeks in awkwardness and she silently retreated, hoping that he hadn't seen her. She hadn't yet thought over the matter of Pietro and his feelings and she didn't want to see him until she had figured it – and herself – out. Ginny silently cursed, as she pressed herself into the wall like a lovesick teenager trying to avoid being caught staring at their crush. Bloody Wanda, she thought crossly, closing her eyes in frustration. Now she was going to be hyper aware of everything that the speedster said and did. It was going to make everything so much-

"Ginny?"

Ginny jumped, her eyes flying open, her thoughts scattering into disarray. "I… Pietro," she blustered, forcing a beaming smile onto her face, panic filling her veins. She wiped imaginary strands of hair behind her ears, trying to ignore the way that her heart rate was slowly increasing. Merlin, she was acting like a child. A complete, utter child who had never had any experience whatsoever. "I, um, what's up?" Her smile was hurting her cheeks.

He looked at her warily. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

He gestured to the wall. "Because it looked like you were sleeping against the wall."

She chuckled nervously. "Well," she said, "you looked like you were sleeping on your feet before, so I think that we're even."

He brushed a hand through his hair, a cautious smile on his face, as he replied, "I… You saw that?" He looked vaguely embarrassed and Ginny had to withhold the smirk that threatened to blossom on her lips. Most of the time, it was Pietro embarrassing them. Not the other way around.

"Yep," Ginny replied, with an absent-minded shrug. "You looked like you were going to collapse where you stood."

"Yes, well…" he fidgeted and Ginny's smirk slipped from her lips, "I haven't been sleeping well," he admitted quietly. "Nightmares. Not all the time, but… it's coming up to the year anniversary since what happened in Sokovia and sleep is hard to find when all you can see are bullets and," he frowned in distaste, "robots."

"Oh," Ginny said gently. "I, um… The anniversaries are always the worst."

He looked at her then, his eyes wide and hopelessly desperate. The expression didn't suit the normally proud speedster and Ginny felt a wave of grief build up inside her at the lost stare. War was a horrible, disgusting thing, only taking and never giving. "Do they ever get better?"

She shrugged. "It really depends on the way that you look at it," she replied carefully. "Personally, my nightmares will never fully disappear, and I know that they will always be a part of me and of who I am today." Surprising even herself, she placed a soft hand on Pietro's arm. "But, sometimes, there are just some things that can't ever be forgotten."

"But what if I want to forget them, Ginny?" he murmured hoarsely and Ginny ignored the way that he whispered her name.

"Then," she said, clearing her throat, "you should accept them, maybe acknowledge them or even respect them. Then, maybe they'll respect you, too."

"Respect?" he chuckled weakly, looking down at the hand that was still resting on his skin. He shifted and Ginny breathed in sharply, as he wove his warm fingers through hers. "I should respect my nightmares?"

"I know that it's worked for others," she said, firmly ignoring the way that her heart was now thumping in her chest.

"Has it worked for you?"

She stared at him deliberately. "Acknowledging that they existed helped."

"Really?"

She allowed a small smile to touch her lips. "Yes, really."

For a brief moment, they were both silent before Pietro said, his grip tightening around her hand, "I need to talk with you about something."

"Oh." Her voice sounded high pitched even to her own ears and she withheld a wince. "Well, I need to talk to you about something too."

Pietro's stare became hopeful. "Do you have time-"

"No," she cut him off hurriedly. The longer that she could delay this conversation, the more time that she had to think about it, the better, and she wondered when she had become such an inexperienced coward. She had used to be so good at this whole flirting thing, but now… It was like she was a First Year all over again, blushing over a crush. She shrugged her hand out of Pietro's and pretended not to see the temporary flash of hurt in his eyes. "I don't have time right now. I… I have a training exercise that I've been putting off," she lied, taking a step backwards.

Pietro's eyes widened comically. "Maybe another time then?" he said with a lopsided smile. At least he no longer looked so sad, she thought, and she nodded in response.

"Another time."

"So, I'll see you later?"

"See you later," she said softly, and Ginny turned away from him, stalking in the direction of the private gym that she normally trained in instead of her bedroom.

* * *

The hangar was distinctly cold and Ginny wrapped her combat jacket more firmly around her shoulders.

"How much do they know?" she asked, as she stepped onto the plane, securing the bag that she had managed to pack at least minute around her shoulder.

Maria folded her hands behind her back, her tablet, for once, nowhere in sight. "Well, they know that you're currently a recruit with S.H.I.E.L.D. who's helping to investigate the disappearance of Inhumans. They also know that you have a few links to the Inhumans, but nothing that is concrete."

Ginny nodded before stopping short. "Inhumans are disappearing as well?"

"Yes."

She glared at Maria in annoyance. "And you didn't think that that was relevant before?"

Maria glared at her. "It's relevant now and that's all that matters."

"Fine," Ginny scowled. "And is there anything else about this team of yours or this mission that you need to tell me about?"

Maria's stare became impenetrable, the slight humour disappearing from her face. "Trust them," she said simply. "They're a good team and they know what will need to be done. So, let them do it and don't get in their way. Once they're finished, report back and we'll send for an extraction."

"And if anyone asks where I've gone?"

"Then you're on a need-to-know training exercise," she replied bluntly.

"Okay. And all of the information on the team?"

Maria pointed to a box inside the plane. "All of the files on that data pad. Familiarise yourself with them before you touch down."

Ginny nodded again. "Well," she muttered, "it's not like I'm going have anything better to do anyway, so file reading it is."

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter! If you see any mistakes or anything, then feel free to let me know and I will get on that right away.**

 **Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favourited this week and a special shout out to all of my lovely guest reviewers: Becca, Lyssasoulless, Guest, and Me.**

 **IMPORTANT: So, amazing readers, my time to move out to university has approached and I will be leaving Germany this coming Thursday to start another new life in England. This also means, that THERE WON'T BE A CHAPTER NEXT SUNDAY. If you want any more information on this, then please check out my revamped blog (on which I shall be documenting my experiences as a student in the UK, so if you're interested, then go check it out. There aren't any posts just yet, though) or you can just go and see my profile.**

 **I hope that you all have a fantastic two weeks!**

 **HC**


	36. Chapter 36

The earth has music for those who listen.

 _William Shakespeare_

* * *

She paced, her feet wearing down the spotless carpet. She raised a hand to her mouth, gnawing on the nails, and stared anxiously at the computer that the hooded man had left her. She didn't want to do this anymore, didn't want to be a part of this, but did she have a choice?

She snorted to herself, her hand falling to her side limply. She had no choice, not when her life was on the line. She sighed and dropped to the couch, staring at the computer in trepidation. If she opened it, then she accepted the next mission. If she didn't…

She stretched out a hand, intending to open the lid, but withdrew it just as quickly. What if she had to kill another person? The last one, quite clearly, had deserved to die, but what if the next one was an innocent? A mother, a father, an elderly woman? Her hands clenched into fists. She refused to be that type of killer, that type of murderer, and she would rather shoot herself than point the barrel of a gun at a helpless child.

She got to her feet again and resumed her anxious pacing, keeping an eye on the clock that was ticking its countdown on the wall. The choice should be easy, she thought to herself. Especially when the choice direct involved her life. So why hadn't she opened the laptop yet?

The answer came to her sooner than she would have liked.

Reluctance. She was reluctant to carry out the orders that she knew she would have to carry out should she open the laptop. She was reluctant to be a part of any organisation that forced her to kill people as an entrance. She was reluctant to become what they wanted her to be.

But she didn't want to die. She had come too far, worked too hard, suffered too much, to be killed for something as simple as not opening a laptop. With a final groan, she plopped back onto the stone hard sofa and glared at it, her hand opening the lid before she could once again change her mind.

An array of text showed on the screen, before five separate documents opened up. There was no turning back now, she thought to herself wryly, as she placed the laptop on her knees and flicked through each of the individual documents, trying to find the one that explicitly stated her mission.

But it wasn't there.

Frantically clicking through the other files, she breathed out in relief when she realised that she had simply clicked over it. She scanned its contents, tension building in her chest with every line.

It wasn't an assassination, like she had presumed it would be, but in her opinion, it was something much, much worse. A capture. She swallowed hard and tugged at a few strands of hair, ignoring the trembling of her fingers. She didn't even want to imagine what this group of people would do to a pretty girl like the one in the picture, but it was either this girl or her own life. So, she forced herself to look at the photo, to take in every detail, every small blemish of the face of the girl that was being displayed in front of her, despite the bile that rose in her throat. This one was very different from the last one, she mused. This one had healthy hair, glowing skin, and a small, curious smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. The picture was taken recently, she noted, examining the dates etched into the bottom.

She wondered what she had done to get on their hit list, before deciding that it was probably above her pay grade to know the answer to that question.

Getting to her feet, she closed the lid of the laptop and put her coat back on. At least this girl wasn't going to be too far away and, with any luck, she would be easy enough to grab.

* * *

The plane was obnoxiously loud and Ginny shut her eyes in frustration, doing her best to drown out the noise. The agent sitting across from her smirked and Ginny scowled in response, slumping deeper into the hard seat that she was sitting on. She shifted, wishing that she could have just apparated to where she needed to go. It would have been easier and much more comfortable than what she was currently suffering through. But Fury had been very clear on his orders – he didn't want anyone to have an inkling of suspicion and Ginny supposed that she could reluctantly agree with his methodology. After all, this was only supposed to be a standard meeting, not a magical confrontation.

"Have you ever met them?" the agent across from her shouted. "Coulson and his team, I mean?"

She shook her head in response, not bothering to call back, and closed her eyes. The agent had been giving her suggestive looks almost the entire trip now, and she hoped that her obvious disinterest would deter him. Oh well, she shrugged. Even if it didn't, she could still break his arm without even touching him. She grinned in dark amusement.

"Coulson's a great agent," he yelled again over the noise. "His team's good."

Thank you very much for that astounding piece of information, Ginny thought to herself sarcastically. The fact that Fury trusted and believed in Coulson was enough to say that Coulson's team was a good one, maybe even a great one, and she felt annoyance rush through her at the agent's obvious statement. Self important bastard.

"So, do I get to know why you're heading off to see them?"

She glared in answer and the agent huffed childishly. Ginny refrained from rolling her eyes.

"I get it, I get it. Classified information and all of that."

Speaking of classified, Ginny mused, how the hell did this guy even know of Coulson's existence? She had thought that that information had been tightly guarded. Or maybe, she reasoned, it had only been tightly guarded and kept secret for the sake of the Avengers. She shook her head in disbelief at the thought. The lengths that Fury had gone to just to keep things hidden from the Avengers themselves were ridiculous and she wondered what else he was hiding for the sake of 'security'.

"Five minutes out," the voice of the pilot crackled in her ear and she nodded to herself, glad that she would soon be able to escape this noisy, ugly contraption. She had been on a plane before, but she still didn't know why they were a favoured method of transport for Muggles. They were cramped and smelly and the military plane that she was sitting in was unbearably loud and cold as well. And while they could travel long distances at a reasonable pace, they would never compare to the freedom of flying on a broomstick or the tightness of travelling by apparition.

Slowly, she started stretching her arms and neck, as the plane began to rapidly descend. Her ears popped and she grimaced, the pain lancing through her head. Merlin, she hated planes.

They landed sooner than she had originally thought that she would and she relished the late afternoon sun on her face, as she exited the plane. She was surprised to note that they had landed in an abandoned car park of some sort and not in a field like she had suspected, but then again, with the cloaking technology that S.H.I.E.L.D. possessed, she figured that they could pretty much go wherever the hell they pleased.

"Not one for planes?" the agent commented to her, as he followed her out.

Ginny arched an eyebrow at him in response and turned away silently, already beginning to focus on the task at hand. She had been told to meet a member of Coulson's team in a small café down the street – a generic Starbucks – and that she would know who they were when she saw them.

"Not very talkative, are you?" the agent muttered grumpily behind her and Ginny whipped around to snap at him, finally fed up with his useless comments and replies.

"And did you ever think that there would be a reason for that?" She pushed up the sleeves of her combat jacket and the agent eyed her warily. "Now, as I'm sure you already know, I have work to do. I'll call when I'm ready." And with that, she turned back around, stomping away from the plane in irritation.

She didn't recognise the town, as she wove through the tiny streets and broken houses, following the directions that Maria had given her before she had left. Not for the first time, she wondered whether this small town had been deserted, as she took in the lonely cars, the scurrying steps of the few people she encountered, and the broken glass that still littered the streets.

Maybe the destruction had been the result of an all out gang war? Or maybe, she mused, maybe it had been something much worse.

Cautiously, one hand resting on her wand hidden at her waist, she walked into the little café that was their meeting point. It was cosy inside, with worn, squishy sofas and walls that were covered with peeling, red wallpaper. A lump built in her throat and she swallowed hard as she was reminded of Gryffindor Tower. It had used to feel just like this: safe, warm, and welcoming. But she forced her thoughts of comfort and Hogwarts away – she was here to work, not to reminisce about childhood memories.

She cleared her throat harshly and stepped further into the café, eyes flicking over the empty, scratched tables. Pietro would probably like this place, she found herself thinking, and she scolded herself a second later. She was supposed to be on a mission, not thinking about Pietro bloody Maximoff. Merlin, she was so distracted. With a sigh, she carefully sat down, sinking into the couch with a relieved grin – this was so much better than those disgusting seats that they had on the plane.

"Hello? Can I get you something?"

Ginny almost jumped in her seat at the sudden appearance of the slender, kind faced woman who was now standing in front of her, but Natasha's training prevented any outward reaction. The woman's hair was black, her skin tanned, and her clothes were worn and dusty, but she looked happy enough to have a customer – they were probably rare around here.

"A cup of coffee would be nice," Ginny said at last, glancing at her with veiled suspicion.

"Brilliant," the woman smiled. "One cup of coffee coming right up."

She bustled over to the counter, grabbing a delicately decorated mug from the shelf.

"So, what brings you out here today?" she asked conversationally.

"Friends," Ginny lied. "I'm meeting them here in about," she glanced at her watch, "five minutes if they're on time."

The woman nodded in understanding, as she turned the coffee machine on. "Do your friends already live here or are they just passing through?"

"Just passing through," Ginny said with a shrug. "We found out that we were heading in the same direction, so we decided to meet up."

"Oh, okay. You haven't met up in a while then?"

"No," Ginny shook her head. "It's been a while. We live on opposite ends of the country."

The woman nodded. "Are you excited to see them again, then? I know that I would be. I haven't seen some of my friends in…" her expression became wistful, "a couple of years now. I've tried to go and see them, but they're living quite far away from here and it costs so much to go anywhere these days."

"I completely understand," Ginny sighed back. "Prices have really risen."

"They have, haven't they?" she said, walking back over to Ginny with a mug in her hands. "Here's you coffee," the woman smiled and she plonked the mug in front of Ginny, some of its contents spilling out over the sides. "Give me a shout if you need anything."

"Absolutely," Ginny smiled, and she watched as the woman exited into one of the back rooms.

It was more than ten minutes later that the door tinkled open and a brown haired woman stepped inside. She looked haggard and exhaustion lined her body, but a relieved expression crossed her face when her eyes landed on Ginny.

"Ginny Prewett, right?" the girl said breathlessly. "Hi, I'm Daisy. Daisy Johnson."

* * *

Malfoy strolled through the corridor, his minimal tasks for the day long completed. He hadn't seen any of the others since earlier that morning, but he wasn't bothered by it; Luna, Neville, Ginny, and Hermione often went off and did their own thing either here on the compound or somewhere else.

Himself, though… He snorted in derision. He hadn't actually left the compound since arriving here and a part of him thought that that fact was disgustingly sad. But it wasn't as though he had a reason to leave. He hadn't left anyone or anything in England and he didn't have anything to come back to, should he decide to return. Or rather, he thought wryly, he would have nothing to come back to except the stares and the scowls that he attracted whenever he went somewhere.

Hermione had told him a few days ago that he should get out more, which he had thought was rather hilarious given Granger's own history and experience with travelling and social events. He had thought about going to one of Stark's parties once or twice, but had always turned them down in the end. After all, what would he do there? Drink and meet pretty women?

He scoffed. There wasn't much point to going to a frivolous party, not when everything was already so exciting here already.

The thought was only mildly sarcastic.

Because, in a way, everything was more exciting here. In England, the remnants of the war still devoured parts of the social and political system and, even at the best of times, it was cloying and stifling to be around. But here, everything was new and different – Muggles had a different way of doing things, and he found himself strangely glad to be walking and living amongst them.

It was funny, he mused, the way that Muggles had adapted everything for lives without magic – the science labs were his favourite place to be, even though he had no idea what the scientists themselves were ever on about. Some days, he would walk in there and they would be discussing biology and medicine, and other days, it was engineering and chemistry. Most of it went over his head, but there was still something calming about the way that all of the chaos fit together. It was, the way the scientists put it, where the magic happened, and Malfoy found the idea of that rather amusing.

"Down here again?" one of the scientists grinned at him and Malfoy started slightly, not realising that he had made his way down into the depths of the compound. "You're down here quite regularly," she continued, brushing dark hair over one of her shoulders. "Do you have any questions or anything?"

"I… No," Malfoy muttered, looking around at the bright corridors. "In fact, to be quite honest, I have no idea how I ended up here."

"That's all right," she shrugged and she gave him a soft smile. "If you have any questions or anything, though, then please feel free to ask, because, you know, that's why I went out and got my degree, and, I'm so sorry, I seem to be babbling again. My colleagues always tell me that I talk way too much and that I should shut up from time to time." She blushed. "Sorry, I'm doing it again."

Malfoy snickered. "Doesn't matter."

"You know," she said, pushing her large glasses up the bridge of her small nose, "even though you've come down here so often, I have no idea what your name is?"

Malfoy, personally, didn't actually recognise the girl standing in front of him at all, but he decided to oblige her. "Malfoy," he introduced grudgingly. "Draco Malfoy."

She beamed. "Clara Price." She stuck out a hand. "It's nice to formally meet you."

"And you," Malfoy replied in bemusement, shaking her hand cautiously. It was warm and surprisingly sturdy in his grip. "So, what is it that you do down here?"

"I'm a biologist," she said, a regretful note in her voice, as she pointed to one of the labs at the far end of the corridor. "Not very exciting, I know, but new things happen down here every day, so I guess that it can be exciting sometimes."

Malfoy eyed her sceptically. "Well, you don't sound very excited."

She shrugged. "My job's all right, I suppose. It can just be a little… monotonous. I design an experiment, I grow my bacteria, and then I write a report on it. Sometimes, I get to work on one of the projects with one of the senior scientists, and when that happens, it's exciting, but when I don't… Yeah, there's not too much to say actually. And, uh," Clara fidgeted, pushing her frames up her nose once again, "what about you? What do you do?"

"I'm a…" Malfoy searched for the right word, "a consultant."

"A consultant?" she repeated, her blue eyes growing wider. Malfoy almost chuckled at her obvious admiration. "That sounds interesting. Whom do you consult for?"

"The Avengers mostly-"

"No. Way," she deadpanned, taking a step back. "You can't be serious."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I'm being perfectly serious."

She stared at him obstinately. "Well, I don't believe you."

"Well, I'm telling you the truth." He smirked at her, daring her to say otherwise.

She was silent for a moment, examining him critically. "You swear?"

"I swear," Malfoy replied, rolling his eyes. Honestly, how long would it take for this woman to believe him? It's not like he had any reason to lie. Or rather, he didn't have any good reason to lie _yet._

Finally, she nodded in response, incredulity still lining her face. "You know," she said, shaking her head, "even though I work here, I haven't even seen them once. Not even a glimpse. The seniors often do, but us juniors?" She snorted. "We never get the same privileges. It's very unfair."

"Totally."

Clara glared at him. "You're mocking me," she accused playfully, humour filling her eyes.

Malfoy opened his mouth to retort, but a loud dinging sound replaced his voice and he stared at Clara curiously, as she rummaged around in one of the huge pockets of her lab coat. It seemed to dwarf her, he noticed absently. Clara was by no means a small, slight woman - in fact, she was rather tall and stocky, but the coat still seemed too large for her.

"That'll be my bacteria," she groaned, turning off the alarm and already making her way down the corridor. "Today, it's the _Pseudomonas syringae_."

He hesitated. "The… the what?"

She laughed, the warm sound filling the space between them and Malfoy couldn't help but step closer. "The _Pseudomonas syringae._ They're really rather fascinating. Do you want to come with me and watch?"

Her enthusiasm was infectious and that, Malfoy told himself later, was the only reason why he had agreed to go along with her and see her precious bacteria.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! This week's been horrendously busy and I've only just managed to put this chapter together this very afternoon. It was, the least to say, a stressful experience. The addition of Malfoy's POV was very unexpected, actually, so I hope that you all liked it!**

 **Anyway, I would just like to thank you all for being so incredibly patient with me. This chapter was a bit on the slow side this week, I know, but next week, things are really going to step up a notch, starting with the introduction of the AoS cast. I'm already so excited to put them in.**

 **So, in that case, I give a huge thanks to all of my readers, followers, reviewers and favouriters. Special shout out to my lovely guest reviewers: Becca, Anon, and my three Guests.**

 **If you want to read about my uni adventures, then you can go over to my profile and take a look at my blog, which is now being officially updated, but if not, then that's perfectly cool as well :-)**

 **I hope that you all have a great week!**

 **HC**


	37. Chapter 37

Everything you can imagine is real.

 _Pablo Picasso_

* * *

She stared at herself in the mirror. She looked pale and haggard, her limp hair falling loosely next to her cheeks, her eyes dull and colourless. Her dark clothes matched her mood, and she pushed the sleeves of her black top up slowly, exposing her undamaged skin. A bubble of hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat, as she stared. She looked like how she used to look when she was a teenager and the realisation, strangely enough, seemed to comfort her. All she was missing were the raccoon eyes that she used to draw on every morning.

Shaking her head at her predicament, she turned away from her reflection in sudden frustration. If she hadn't accepted the job in the first place, then she wouldn't be here, looking like death warmed up and being reminded of days that were long gone.

But she couldn't change the past.

"Which is why I should just get over it and do what I signed up to do," she muttered, finishing the thought quietly.

She walked through the house, her covered feet barely making any sound as she re-entered the small living room, staring at the place where the laptop was still perched. She was tempted to go up to it again and just double check all of her information, but she knew that it would be pointless – the data on the screen was all but unforgettable and she was certain that the location and the name of her target would be burned into her brain for the years to come.

Or rather, they would be if she survived this.

Taking one last look around the tiny safe house, she made sure that she had everything she needed. Phone, check. ID, check. Realising that those were the only things that she really needed, she finally turned around and headed towards the door. Hopefully, _hopefully,_ she thought, as she placed a clammy hand on the doorknob, this would be the last horrible thing that she would have to do.

But a voice inside told her that this was only the beginning. And she couldn't help but think that that little voice was right.

The late afternoon sun was warm on her skin, as she stalked outside, but she hugged her jacket even tighter around her slim shoulders. She glanced down the street, her eyes landing on two children that were playing happily in the front yard of one of the houses. She could hear their excited squeals from where she was standing, but she forced herself to turn away, looking instead for the non-descript dark blue car that she had been told would be waiting outside.

She found it sooner than she would have liked and started pacing towards it, keeping her head down and buried in the collar of her coat, as she walked past the garden in which the two children were playing in.

"Phoebe!" one yelled, as she strode by. "I'm gonna get you!"

Phoebe giggled. "No you're not!"

She tried to ignore them for the rest of the way, shutting out the sounds of their afternoon play, and it was almost with relief that she arrived outside of the car.

"For a moment there," the driver commented to her, as she opened the door to the backseat, "I didn't think that you would be coming out at all."  
"I just wanted to finalise my plans," she lied coldly, buckling herself in. She could still hear Phoebe and the other child chortling delightedly.

"All right, all right," the driver muttered, starting the engine. "Hold your horses. It wasn't an insult or anything."

She said nothing in response and chose to glare out the window. The sound of the kids faded into the distance.

"We'll be there in about half an hour."

She said nothing in response.

"You might want to check out the case on the seat next to you. Just a hint."

She glanced briefly to her right, noticing the dark leather case for the first time. She stared at it uncertainly for a moment, before saying, "What's in there?"

The driver snorted. "Open it and see for yourself."

Without any further hesitation, reminding herself that every movement that she made was a test in itself, she reached out and pushed a button next to the handle. The lid opened automatically with a hiss and she found herself watching in blank fascination, as the contents of the case revealed itself.

"What are they?" she wanted to know, her fingers skimming over the vials of bright liquid and the few guns.  
The driver shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? I'm only the driver. It's not like anyone tells me anything."

She raised an eyebrow at his comment – as a driver, she was pretty sure that he was privy to some pretty confidential conversations.

"Sure you are," she muttered, closing the lid of the case, and staring out the window once more. "Sure you are."

* * *

"Sorry for the short wait," Daisy said conversationally, as she sank down in the seat opposite Ginny. "But, you know, things happen. There was something we had to deal with."

Ginny's eyes flashed in amusement, and she raised her mug of coffee to her lips. Daisy looked younger than what the pictures in her file had shown. "Don't worry," Ginny said eventually, "I definitely get it. It's a part of the job."

Daisy tilted her head curiously in response. "You're English? They didn't tell me about that. Just saying, but I love English accents. Truth be told, I wish I had one, but we can't have everything." She sighed and brushed a hand through her hair. "Anyway, we have about five minutes tops before we have to meet back at the pl-" she glanced surreptitiously towards the partially open door to the kitchen, "bus. You nearly ready?"

Ginny gulped back the last dregs of coffee and looked at the empty cup somewhat mournfully, as she placed it back on the table. She wasn't usually a big coffee drinker, but today, she had welcomed the bitter taste instead of rejecting it. It probably had to do with the fact that she hadn't had a proper meal all day.  
"Ready," she said, getting to her feet and leaving a generous tip on the table for the woman. She followed Daisy out the door a second later. "How far away are we from the lab?"

"On the plane, only about forty minutes."

Ginny turned to look at Daisy curiously. "Plane?"

"You'll see," was all Daisy said, as she led Ginny through the devastated town. "So, is it true that you're working with the Avengers?"

Ginny shifted uncomfortably, staring at a collapsed house. Bricks still littered the road from its destruction and she wondered how long they had been sitting there, lying abandoned on the road. "To an extent. I used to be their secretary, but now…"

Daisy nodded in understanding. "Yeah, don't worry about that – I have a similar story. I was picked up by S.H.I.E.L.D. after getting in too deep with my past job and even though I was their 'captive' for a while, it's not so bad now. I mean," she shrugged, "I get a lot of perks."

Daisy fell silent and grimaced as they walked past another demolished building. This one was larger than the last one had been, and if Ginny looked closely, she could still see pictures – paintings – hanging on the walls inside the house. The realisation caused a shiver to tremble down her spine.

"Do you know what happened here?" Ginny asked, gesturing to the wreckage with a hard swallow.

Daisy looked at her in curiosity. "You don't know?"

Ginny shook her head.

"Well, simply put, Thor did it. It was a little bit before aliens decided to invade the world, but it involved Loki as well. I don't know much more than that, but S.H.I.E.L.D. tried to get the locals to move. A number of them, though, decided to stay anyway. They probably haven't cleaned up because it reminds them of what happened."

"Did," Ginny hesitated, "did anyone die?"

"I don't think so, but... These types of things leave scars and they don't always leave the prettiest ones."

Ginny silently agreed, as they turned out of the small town and out onto a small path that led into the desert. She squinted into the distance sceptically.

"It's not much further," Daisy promised. "In fact, it's…" they rounded a hill. "Here we are."

Ginny stared blankly at the space that Daisy was gesturing to and wondered if it was a joke of some kind. "I'm not seeing anything."

Daisy sighed in irritation and tapped something on her wrist. The air in front of her started to shift. "Sorry about that. New protocol. I'm still getting used to it."

But Ginny was no longer paying any attention to Daisy.

The plane that seemed to form out of nothing in front of her was, in a single word, massive. It was black with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo printed on the side, its wings spanning metres out to the sides. Even the Avengers didn't own a plane this large and she found herself stepping towards it in pure disbelief.

"How…?"

"Cloaking technology," Daisy answered with a small smirk, as the back hatch began to lower. "Cool, isn't it? We call it 'the Bus.'"

"Who pilots it?"

"I do," came a sharp response and Ginny snapped around to face a petite, Asian woman who was striding towards her, purpose lining her every step. Confidence, similar to that of Natasha, seemed to ooze out of her very pores and Ginny instinctively knew that this woman was not one to be on the bad side of. "Agent Prewett," she said, her dark eyes assessing, "I'm Agent May. Agent Coulson's on the Bus and he'll greet you when we go inside." She turned her hard stare to Daisy. "You both ready?"

"Sure. You?"

Ginny nodded tightly.

"In that case then," May said, "let's go."

The inside of the plane, if possible, seemed even larger than the outside of the plane and it was with little success that Ginny tried to hide her blatant incredulity.

"Don't worry," a voice said from above her and Ginny looked upwards. A light smile touched her lips. Agent Coulson. It had to be. "Most people look like that the first time that they see this. It's pretty cool, though, isn't it?"

Ginny finally found her voice. "Sure is, sir."

"So," he started walking down the stairs, followed by two others who Ginny hadn't yet noticed, "you must be Agent Ginny Prewett."

"Yes, sir."

"Welcome to the team. I'm Agent Coulson and this," he said, gesturing to the two standing behind him, "is Fitz," Fitz waved, "and Simmons." Simmons beamed. "You'll be working with them to find whatever it is that you're looking for at this lab of yours, which reminds me. What are we actually looking for? Because Fury, typically, didn't tell us anything."

Ginny frowned. "We need to see if we missed anything the last time I was there. That's why Fury sent me out to meet you guys."

"But what did you miss?"

"To be honest, I don't know if I missed anything, but our main lead in an investigation died, so now we're grasping at straws."

Coulson shared a look with Daisy. "And do we get to know what this investigation is about?"

Ginny sighed, wondering how much she could risk giving away. "All I can say, is that it involves HYDRA, the Inhumans, and a third party."

"The Inhumans?" Daisy interrupted tightly and Ginny stared at her carefully. "What about them?"

"Some of them," Ginny said cautiously, "are joining forces with HYDRA and combined with the third party, whom we know is also becoming actively involved, they're proving to be a large threat."

"Do we know who the third party is?"

"Yes," Ginny replied simply. "And in many ways, they can be even more dangerous than the Inhumans."

* * *

Luna skipped down the hallway, her eyes closed, her arms dangling by her sides, her glasses slipping down her nose. She quite liked it here, at the compound. She liked the way that everything seemed to fit together, as though everything was a chess piece that was a part of the larger game. Neville, on the other hand, didn't like it nearly so much – being around so many Muggles who had strength and powers that were not so different from their own made him nervous. But Luna, well, she embraced it. Muggles were so much more innovative than what she had been taught in class. She especially liked the wrackspurts, though, that seemed to float around the facility in large hoards. It was funny, she thought, how Muggles were constantly surrounded by magic, but never seemed to realise it.

She came to a halt in her skipping, as she approached the living quarters of the Avengers, seeing the silver haired twin pacing in irritation outside of the corridor. She tilted her head curiously, wondering what he was so annoyed about, before spotting the aforementioned wrackspurts. Her expression cleared. No wonder he was so frustrated.

"Why don't you just go in?" she asked, gesturing to the door that led to the personalised rooms for the Avengers. "It is open, isn't it?"

"Yes," he grumbled, "it's open."

Luna waited patiently for him to speak again.

"How well do you know Ginny?"

The question was a surprising one. "Quite well, I like to think," Luna responded slowly. "But what one shows on the outside is never the same as what is on the inside."

"So," he said, his expression sceptical, "you're saying that you don't know her?"

"I'm saying that you can never truly know anyone."

Pietro was briefly silent. "Do you trust her?"

"With my life." Luna paused. "She's a very brave person."

"Yes, I know," he muttered hollowly. "That's why I'm annoyed – she lied to me. She told me that she was going to the far gym, but she never went. Maybe it's me she doesn't trust."

"Oh, I don't think so," Luna smiled dreamily. "I personally think that she trusts you too much."

Pietro snorted. "If she trusted me, then she would tell me the truth. Ever since I me her, it's been lies and evasion. The whole time."

"Are you sure about that?" Luna asked. "Evasion, yes. But lies? It's rare that Ginny will ever intentionally lie to anyone about anything. If she does, then it's to protect those whom she loves, whom she trusts. She does it out of duty, not out of mistrust or spite."

The wrackspurts began to fly away from Pietro's head, as he pondered Luna's words, and Luna waved goodbye to them as they flew off. She would see them again later, no doubt, stirring more trouble.

"I never looked at it that way," Pietro finally admitted. His electric blue eyes met Luna's own, just before she turned away to resume her skipping. "Thank you."

* * *

The lab was on the tenth floor and it looked just like Ginny remembered, as they walked into the burnt, sullied room. The plasterboard was blackened from flame and ash had settled in dead, undisturbed piles on the floor. The scent of burnt plastic still hung in the air and vials, beakers, and broken computer screens were scattered haphazardly, creating peculiar shadows on the walls. Three scorched hospital beds had been pushed to one side, their sheets hanging limply from the mattresses.

Ginny stepped forward tentatively, almost afraid to disturb the eerie calm.

"Nice place," Fitz muttered, slamming his case on the floor. A puff of ash floated into the air in quiet protest. "What is it we're looking for exactly?"

She breathed out slowly and glanced over her shoulder to look at him in annoyance. They had already gone over this. Multiple times. "Anything out of the norm. Anything that shouldn't be here."

"Well, that's just as helpful as the last time that you said," he said sarcastically, ignoring Ginny's glare. "Come on, you have to give me something to go off here, or otherwise Simmons and I won't be able to do anything."

Ginny stepped further into the room, ignoring the Scotsman, her eyes scanning over every inch that she could see. The dark blood splatters were still there by the desk and the smashed glass was still lying in pieces next to the legs of a broken chair. Around her, the ash moved and drifted, and she held her breath, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck raise up, as it settled once again.

She walked deeper into the lab, carefully assessing before-

"Over here," she called, pointing to a glowing red light that belonged to a small box on the floor. The muddy footsteps next to it were recent as well. "This wasn't here last time."

Fitz jogged over to her. "Well," he muttered, bending over to look at the box, "that's interesting. I've only seen one of them in the…" his eyes widened. "We have to get out of here."

"Wait, wh-"

"Everyone, we have to leave."

"Why?" May demanded. "What have you-"

The room exploded.

* * *

Her vision was fuzzy and her ears buzzed. She raised fingers to her temple and was surprised to feel the blood that bloomed there. She blinked sluggishly, the world spinning in a haze of both colour and fire. Wincing in pain, she looked to her left and cursed when she saw an unconscious Fitz.

"Fitz," she wheezed and he stirred, moaning. "Fitz!" she snapped more loudly and she dug out her wand from her holster, performing a brief examination spell. Broken ribs, concussion, bruising. Not as bad as she had originally thought, she mused wryly, and she healed the worst of his injuries quickly, before waking him up.

"Jemma," he muttered. "Simmons. Where is she?"

Ginny looked over to the corner where the young biochemist had been standing. "We'll find her," she promised thickly, helping him sit up. "Can you walk?"  
"Think so."

"Good. Get everyone out." She got to her feet, stumbling slightly, her head throbbing in pain.

"What about you?"

"Me?" she laughed bitterly. "I'm going to catch the son of a bitch who did this."

She half tripped, half ran throughout the room, checking on the status of the others, before finally exiting the now completely ruined lab. The person who did this did it for a reason, she thought grimly, so there was no way that they would have left just yet, especially seeing as there had been either nothing or very little of use in the lab itself.

An invisible hand gripped around her throat.

Ginny reacted instinctively, slashing her wand downwards in a cutting motion. The hand let go, as the body was slammed up against the opposite wall with a yelp.

"Reveal yourself," she demanded. "Reveal yourself, or this is going to be a lot worse for you."

Slowly, a figure started forming before Ginny's stunned eyes. Her skin was tanned, with her platinum blonde hair falling knottily next to her cheeks. Her eyes were wide and frightened, as she struggled against Ginny's magic. Inhuman, Ginny realised.

She breathed in deeply, trying to focus her thoughts. "Did you just do that? Set off the grenade?"

"Wasn't a grenade," she coughed. "Was one of the potions that they gave me."

"Potions? Potions from who?"

The girl whimpered and tried tugging herself free. "I-I don't know."

Ginny's gaze hardened, and she forced the pain that was threatening to overwhelm her into the very back of her mind. "You sure about that?"

She nodded vigorously and Ginny released her, the girl falling slowly into a heap on the floor.

"What's your name?"

The girl was silent. She looked so pitiful and pathetic, slumped there in the uneven shadows with tears dripping down her cheeks, that even Ginny was tempted to feel sorry for her.

"Joanna," the girl finally whispered. "It's Joanna Forettas."

"Right. So, Joanna, I want you to listen to me and I want you to listen to me very carefully. You will answer my questions and if you lie, then I'll know. Understand?"

Joanna nodded again, her head bobbing quickly.

Ginny tilted her head. "Was I your target today?"

Joanna hesitated, before she muttered, "Yes."

"Were you supposed to kill me?"

"N-no. Just take you."

"Why?"

She shook her head, her dirty hair falling in her face. "I d-don't know. They don't t-tell me those kind of things!"

"And what else have they told you to do?"

Joanna paled and her eyes flickered nervously toward the doorway, but Ginny stepped smoothly in front of her. "What else have they gotten you to do?" she repeated.

Joanna's hands started shaking. "I, u-um, they told me… They told me to kill someone."

"And did you do it?"

Joanna looked imploringly at Ginny, her eyes wide and desperate. "You have to understand," she babbled. "They were going to kill me if I didn't and I've done too much, worked too hard to get where I am today. So they took me to this prison-"

"Prison?" Ginny interrupted sharply, her thoughts racing. With what this girl could already do… "What prison?"

"I-I don't know. But it was dark… and cold. There was ice on the floor. I don't know how we got there, but one minute I was on a beach and the next minute, I was in a d-dungeon."

"And what was the name of the person you had to kill?"

Joanna turned her head away, fresh tears leaking down her face. "G-g-greyback," she gasped. "That's all I know, I swear it. I swear it."

"All right," Ginny said slowly. "Here's what you're going to do for me." She handed Joanna a small button on a key ring – her own panic button. "You're going to go back to your bosses and you're going to tell them that you failed."

Joanna was already shaking her head. "No, no, no, no, no. They'll kill me. You don't understand!"

"They won't kill you and I do understand."

"They're going to kill me!"

Ginny grabbed the girl's shoulders and forced Joanna to look at her. "Joanna, hey. Look at me." She took a deep breath. "Calm down. They're not going to kill you. Do you know why? Because they want you. They want you for your gift. They wouldn't have contacted you otherwise. So, take this." She shoved the small key ring into Joanna's hands. "Put it somewhere safe – maybe you're wallet. It has a tracker and a microphone on it. The button itself is a panic button and if you press it, then no matter where you are, I will come for you. Understand?"

Joanna tucked the little object into one of her pockets. "You'll be listening?" she said, her voice small.

"I'll be listening," Ginny confirmed.

"And if I press the button, then you'll come?"

Ginny nodded. "I'll come."

Joanna nodded, dread filling her delicate features. "I don't know why I agreed to this. To any of this."

Ginny hated the way that Joanna's voice sounded so broken and defeated. "Because you wanted a chance at a better life," she responded quietly. "It's not your fault for wanting something as natural as that."

Joanna glanced at Daisy, who was still slumped on the floor. "I'll only do it on one condition," she whispered. "And that is, that I won't be prosecuted once all this is over."

Ginny sighed. "It's not as-"

"Promise me," she repeated.

"I… I promise."

And with that, the girl wobbled to her feet, sending one last reproachful look at Ginny. "You'd better come," she said, before disappearing into the smoke and darkness.

* * *

"Hermione," Steve greeted, as the brunette walked into the small conference room. She glanced quizzically from Sam, to Steve, and back to Sam.

"What's going on?"  
Steve shared a meaningful stare with Sam.

"We were hoping that-"

"You mean _you_ were hoping," Sam interrupted with a raised eyebrow.  
"I was hoping," Steve corrected, "that you could help us with a… situation."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "A situation. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to be a little more specific."

Sam sighed and scratched his nose. "He means a person. He wants to know if you can help him find a person."

"I wouldn't ask if I weren't desperate," Steve added quickly. "But can you, you know, do that?"

"Find people?" Hermione replied, amused. "Yes, I can find people. But once again, you're going to have to be a little more specific."

* * *

 **Hi everyone! I hope that you all enjoyed today's chapter and if you spotted any mistakes, grammar or spelling, then please let me know ASAP and I will get on that right away.**

 **Special thanks to all of my readers, followers, reviewers, and favouriters. You're all awesome!  
Special shout out to this week's guest: Becca! Thank you so much for your kind words! They are always appreciated. **

**And, without much further ado, I hope that you all have a great week!**

 **HC**


	38. Chapter 38

Your arms feel more like home than any house ever did.

 _Kate_

* * *

The early evening air hit Joanna's bruised flesh, as she slunk out of the building, empty handed and completely and utterly terrified. The key ring that her target, Ginny Weasley, had given her was clamped tightly in her fingers and it was with reluctance that she eventually tucked it safely into the corner of her bra. They wouldn't think to look for anything there, she thought darkly, as she made her way along the edge of the dimming street.

She looked further down the road and shivered, as she saw the headlights of the car that was supposed to take her to wherever she was headed to next. They would already know that she had failed in her mission and the realisation sent an icy tremble down her spine.

What would they do to her? Kill her? Worse? Not for the first time, she found herself hoping that Ginny Weasley had been sincere in her promise and that she wasn't going to be walking back into the lion's den for nothing. She pursed her lips. If Ginny had been lying, then she would pay and it wouldn't be pretty.

"So," the driver stated bluntly, as she stumbled into the back seat, "I see that you failed then."

"She was stronger than I was led to believe," Joanna muttered, as she shut the car door with a loud slam. "And older, too."

The driver shrugged and plugged the keys into the ignition. "Oh well. Not everyone passes."

The comment made Joanna look up in grim interest. "You mean that others have had… tests to pass as well?"

"Everyone has to pass a test," the driver scoffed. "The difficulty varies, but the rules are simple. Sometimes, depending on the candidate, my bosses let them take a third test, but I wouldn't get my hopes up for that happening to you. I mean, you passed the first test, but if this one was supposed to be easy… Well, there's not much that you're going to be able to do."

"And, uh," her voice sounded small in the squashed car. "And what if you don't pass?"

"Then, you die."

Joanna breathed in sharply, her heart beginning to thump in her chest. So, they really hadn't been exaggerating. And Ginny had been wrong in her assessment, just like she had thought that she was.

"It's unfortunate, you know– do you think that we enjoy killing all of those talented, gifted people? But it's really that simple. After all, we wouldn't be able to have loose cannons running around the place, now would we."

"Why?" she whispered. "Why kill them in the first place?"

"I just told you why."  
She paused, her next question sticking in her throat. "Will I die?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Like I said earlier, I'm just the driver. No one ever tells me anything, but every now and again, it's not too hard to guess what's going on and seeing as I've been doing this for quite a while now, I've gotten pretty good at reading the cues."

* * *

"So, let me clarify a few things," Hermione began flatly. "You want me to track down your friend – who's not only a war hero, but also a fugitive from the law and one of the world's most deadly assassins." Her dubious stare flicked between both Sam and Steve. "Can you remind me of why I should do this again?"

Sam shrugged and held up his hands defensively. "Don't look at me. This is all his idea."

Steve shifted and ran a hand through his short hair, his eyes unusually distressed. "I…" he began, "he's my friend. When I was young, I made it through because of everything that he did for me. He helped me when I got sick, when I was being bullied, when my mum died… He stood up for me when no one else would. He believed in me. You know," he said with a bitter laugh, "when I woke up, I thought that I was the only one left. But Bucky... He's still out there and wherever he is, he needs someone. You don't have to agree to help us, but with or without you, I am going to find him."

Hermione was silent for a moment, as she mulled over his quiet words. Bucky Barnes, in so many ways, sounded just like Harry. He sounded brave and resilient and strong and undeserving of the fate that he had been given. He sounded like he had been to hell and back and the thought made Hermione's brows crease. She could understand what Steve was going through, she realised, because it was exactly what she had gone through when she had followed Harry in their seventh year. The fear, the anxiety, the despair, the desperation…

"Why me?" she wanted to know. "You could have picked any of us, so why did you pick me?"

"Because," he said, "you're the one who I think that I can trust the most."

She raised an eyebrow at his statement. "Not Ginny?"

Steve chuckled awkwardly. "Ginny's great. She really is, but I don't think that she's the one for this. She's in too deep with S.H.I.E.L.D. and-"

"You want someone who's not so S.H.I.E.L.D. orientated," Hermione finished for him.

Steve blew out a breath. "Exactly."

Hermione nodded slowly in understanding. She still thought it was odd, that out of all of the people whom Steve could have gone too, he had gone to her. He barely knew a thing about her, other than the fact that she was a witch. Nonetheless, her agreement to the bizarre request was out of her mouth before she could even register what she had said. "I'll help you."

Steve started at her response. "You will?"

"I… Yes," she said quietly. "I will."

Sam gave her an uncertain look. "Are you sure about this? Because once you're in, you're in. There's no backing out or backing down."

This time, Hermione didn't pause in her answer. "I'm in." And she couldn't help the small spark of excitement that raced through her veins at her admission.

* * *

Clara snuck a glance over her shoulder at the blonde, who was still trailing behind her, as they wove their way deeper into the mess of labs. She still couldn't believe that she was doing this, leading a guy – and not a bad looking one at that – into her own personal work space.

"So," Draco pointed at one of the microscopes that lined the lab benches, "what's that?"

Clara turned around and huffed a surprised laugh. "Are you serious?"

Draco stared at her, looking vaguely affronted, and she felt her cheeks flush red. "Perfectly."

Clara's mouth dropped open in the shape of an 'o'. Hadn't he taken science in school? "Well, um, it's a light microscope. It makes… small things appear much larger through both the focused reflection of light and through different types of lenses." She hesitated slightly. "I, uh, would you like to see how it works?"

Malfoy shrugged, but the curiosity that gleamed in his eyes couldn't be hidden and she felt a spark of satisfaction. At least he wasn't bored. Yet. "Sure."

"In that case then," Clara murmured, rifling through a few of the slides that were sitting next to it, "let me pick out something… Ah, here we go." She picked up a small glass slide and slid it gently onto the stage. "This is quite a famous little bacteria, this one, but it can be quite nasty when it ends up in the wrong place. It's called _Escherichia coli_ or _E. coli_ for short." She gestured for him to come and have a look. "It can actually be found in our intestines and is generally quite happy there, but every now and again, it can cause a few nasty infections."

Malfoy peered into the lens and squinted. "What, those pink blobs there? Those are bacteria?"

"Yes," Clara replied, amused, "those pink blobs there are bacteria _._ "

"And those things cause infection?" Draco asked sceptically.

"Yes, they can."  
"But they're so small."  
"They doesn't have to be large," Clara said with a shrug, still not quite believing that Draco was still listening to her. "They only have to be strong and, in their own unique way, they are."

"And we all have these?"

"Every single one of us," she confirmed. "And, I mean, the _E. coli_ there, that's only one type."

Draco looked back up from the microscope. "How many more types are there?"  
"Millions," she grinned. "Millions and millions. And we're still discovering more all the time, especially after the introduction of Inhumans. I swear to God, my job has never been more exciting."

"Well," Draco said slowly, "it sounds interesting."  
Clara's eyes lit up. "You really think so?"

Draco tilted his head, his blonde hair shining under the harsh lab lights. "Why wouldn't it be interesting when it has relevance to the way that we live our lives today?"

Clara, right then and there, almost melted into a puddle on the floor and it was only with some effort that she managed to turn around and keep walking to where her own set of bacteria were waiting for her.

* * *

"So," May said, glaring as Simmons poked the needle through the damaged skin of her upper arm, "do we get an explanation as to what happened out there today?"

"Uh," Ginny muttered, pressing the icepack that Daisy handed to her against her head, "not really. Sorry."  
Daisy grimaced wryly. "Don't worry, we get it. Probably more than you think."

"It wasn't supposed to be like that, though." Ginny frowned, her thoughts still cloudy and her vision still blurring around the edges. The events of the last hour almost seemed dreamlike, like she had imagined them. "What happened today… It never should have happened."  
May snorted. "It's never supposed to, but it always does."

"Has that happened often to you, then?" Ginny asked curiously. "Mission's going south like that?"  
"It's happened enough."

A brief silence fell throughout the small medical bay of the plane and Ginny leaned her head against the cold steel, closing her eyes with a quiet sigh of relief. According to Simmons, she had several broken ribs, a severe concussion, and minor cuts and bruises; Ginny was thankful that it wasn't more. The incident at the lab could have been worse, much worse, especially after finding out that the girl – Joanna – had been given very specific magical potions for the very purpose of blowing things up.

Ginny's hazy thoughts turned to the frightened, thin girl. She couldn't have been more than twenty-two, twenty-three at most, and her lips pursed tightly. So, why had TEPHRA chosen her? Was it just because of her gift?

A part of Ginny didn't think so, not when there were so many other valuable and volatile Inhumans out there, too many other wild cards to choose from. She glanced briefly at the screen of her phone. Still nothing. Either Joanna hadn't been picked up yet or she had left the device behind.

"All right," Simmons voice cut through the stillness, and Ginny eyes snapped open as she heard the final snip of the scissors. "You're all finished."

May flexed her arm experimentally and got to her feet. "It'll be fine. Thanks." She jerked her head in the direction of where Fitz was sleeping. "How's he doing?"

Simmons turned to him, an expression of worry flitting across her features. "He's… he's going to be okay. He has a slight concussion, but given how close he was to the blast…" She took a deep breath and stared back at May. "Let's just say that he's very lucky and keep it at that, shall we?"

May nodded. "You got it," she replied, her eyes softening fleetingly. "You need anything, you just let me know. I'll be upstairs with Coulson."

Simmons nodded stiffly, not saying anything in response, as May slowly retreated out of the bay.

"Right." Simmons peeled off her gloves with a loud snap, and dumped them in the bin with a faux bright smile on her face. "So, who's next?"

Daisy grimaced and shared a sidelong glance with Ginny. "You don't need any stitches, do you?"  
Ginny shook her head in amusement, as Daisy groaned. "Look's like it's just gonna be me then."  
"All right, then," Jemma said, already pulling on a new pair of gloves. "You know the drill."

"Yes," Daisy said, trailing over to the bed where May had been sitting on a minute before. "Yes, unfortunately, I do." She sat down with a huff of annoyance, watching as Jemma prepared her small workstation. "So," Daisy said slowly, relaxing back onto the bed, "I guess that today was kind of pointless then, huh. I mean, the lab was blown up and we didn't even manage to catch whoever it was that decided to crash our little party."

Ginny chuckled grimly and regretted a moment later, her ribs aching in sudden protest. "You could say that." She hadn't told them about Joanna, not wanting to compromise the girl and not wanting to lead Coulson's team any deeper into her investigation. Merlin, they were already in deep enough, she thought grimly, and it was only a by a stroke of luck that they hadn't discovered anything more.

"Well," Daisy said slowly, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Ginny muttered in response. "So am I. But it can't be helped."

"Have you got any other leads to follow?"  
"At this point," she lied, "no. But we'll figure something out. We're going to have to or otherwise, a lot of people are going to die."

The rest of the flight back to the ruined town went surprisingly quickly and was spent mostly in solemn silence with Daisy asking the occasional, odd question like what her favourite food was, when her Birthday was, and who her favourite Avenger was. Every now and again, Ginny would receive updates on her phone that let her know that Joanna was on the move, a fact that both comforted and made Ginny increasingly more nervous. At this stage, she was headed in the same direction that Ginny was – New Mexico – but she had zigzagged so much that Ginny had no idea whether or not it was going to be the girl's final destination, and from the looks of it, Ginny didn't think that it would be.

"We're only ten minutes out, now," Simmons said, walking back into the medical bay with a small smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Ginny said with a painful shrug. Her head was still spinning, but at least the pain in her ribs was no longer as sharp as it had been.

Simmons gave her a sympathetic stare. "I would give you something stronger, but I don't want to risk any secondary bleeding."

Ginny nodded absently, as she made to move off the bed. "It's fine. I get it. I really do. And you've already done so much already."

"I only wish that I could do more."

The town was swathed in darkness by the time that they returned and it was with promises that she would keep in touch, that she waved goodbye to Coulson's team. They were an interesting group of people, Ginny mused to herself, as she walked slowly back to the plane that had dropped her off earlier that day. She only wished that she had been able to spend a little more time with them before having to say goodbye.

* * *

It was several hours later that Ginny strode off the second plane and back into the familiar hallways of the Avengers compound. Her eyes were swollen from fatigue, her body now black and blue from the aftermath of the explosion, and even though the desire to sleep was weighing down her limbs, she still had several things to worry about before she could even think about lying down and sleeping.

She didn't know how Natasha did it.

"Ginny?" Pietro said, the grin on his face slowly fading as he jogged up to her.

Ginny's head gave a sharp throb and she gave a half-hearted attempt at a smile. "Hey, Pietro."

His stare was accusing. "What happened to you?"

"Mission went south," she said, stifling a yawn. "I'm concussed and have a few broken ribs that still need healing, but other than that, I'm okay. I need to go and see Fury, tho-"

Pietro gave an exasperated groan and before she could object, he placed an arm under her knees and another supportively under her back. "Why do you always get yourself into trouble?" he muttered irritably, lifting her gently upwards. "You always go out on these missions and always come back with another scar or three more bruises."

She could feel the warmth of his body against her flesh and, before Ginny could even register what she was doing, she allowed her head to fall sleepily against his chest. Warm. Comforting. Reassuring. That's what he felt like, she thought, and she curled into his body, choosing to ignore the rational thoughts that were now screaming through her mind. She would savour this, she promised herself. Even if it were only for a little while, she would savour this.

"I don't know," she murmured finally, as Pietro stilled momentarily. She could hear the comforting thud of his heartbeat, slightly elevated, through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Trouble just seems to find me, I suppose."  
"I know," he said, unimpressed, as he started walking once again. "That is why I worry. And I'm taking you to the medical wing, not to Fury. Fury can wait. And so can your information."

"But-"

"No buts."

She squirmed in his arms. "I really do have to see Fury," she protested weakly. "It's important."

"Not as important as you," he replied simply. "So, Fury can wait."

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I hope that you enjoyed this week's chapter (I know it was a bit quieter again) and if you spotted any grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, or any other thing, then please let me know and I will fix it ASAP.**

 **Fun fact: The end of this chapter was a first in writing for me - I've never written fluff or romance before (probably a reason why the romance in this story is taking forever).**

 **Huge thanks to all of my reviewers, followers, favouriters, and silent readers. You're all amazing. And a special shout out to this week's lovely guest: Becca! Your review made me grin and I'm so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter!**

 **Anyway, I hope that you all have a wonderful week and I will see you all next Sunday!**

 **HC**


	39. Chapter 39

Believe in your dreams. They were given to you for a reason.

 _Katrina Mayer_

* * *

Ginny sat on the edge of the Muggle hospital bed, a frown etched on her face and her lips tightly pursed. Her hair had long since come out of its customary tight braid, strands of orange sticking out behind her ears, and her eyes were lined with dark circles of exhaustion. Her flesh was covered with furious, purple bruises, and her entire body ached. They had given her one of those embarrassing hospital gowns that she had been forced to put on and she scowled down at the itchy fabric in annoyance.

She didn't have to be here, she told herself. And she didn't want to be here. So, why in Merlin's name had Pietro brought her here?

Slowly, she shifted on the bed and glared over to where he was sitting, his fingers tapping a constant, silent rhythm on his knee. His hair was windswept and a faint shadow lined his jawline – a present from training, no doubt, Ginny thought wryly, and, when looking down at her own bruised body, she decided that she could very much sympathise.

"I don't need to be here," she said again, beginning to feel like a broken record. "All I needed to do was see Hermione. Then I would have been fine."

Pietro frowned and his fingers stopped their blurring movements. "You do need to be here. Why do you keep saying otherwise?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ginny muttered sarcastically. "Maybe because there's another way out there that's both safer and faster?"

But Pietro shook his head stubbornly. "Safe and fast doesn't mean that it's reliable."

"Oh, come on," Ginny snapped. "You know that what we can do is perfectly reliable."

"Well," Pietro muttered, "I wouldn't know a lot about that, would I, seeing as no one ever talks about it."

"I'm talking about it now. Look, can't you go and get Hermione? Please? She's the only one skilled enough to heal this bloody concussion for me."

Pietro sighed irritably, a small flash of annoyance passing across his face. "Look, I've already tried. When you were in with the doctors earlier, I tried searching for her, but it seems that she's left the facility tonight. So, you're stuck here." He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. "Are you satisfied now?"

Ginny was silent, her mind whirling. Hermione wasn't at the facility? "Where'd she go?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Pietro said. "A mission, perhaps?"

"But-" But Hermione doesn't go on missions, she wanted to say. And despite for a few day trips into New York, she didn't leave the compound often either. As steps sounded outside of her room, signalling the appearance of another doctor or nurse, Ginny made a mental to ask the brunette where she had gone the moment that she saw her again.

"So, Agent Prewett," a grey haired doctor said, stalking into her room, datapad in hands, "a nurse has already been in to evaluate you, yes?"

Ginny nodded tersely in response. "That's right."

"And she diagnosed you with a concussion along with severe bruising, particularly around your midsection and chest area?"

"Yes."

He tapped something on the screen and peered at one of the results from one of the scans that she had been forced to have earlier. "The good news is, is that there's no internal bleeding, however, you will have to be kept in overnight regarding your concussion."

Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but the doctor held up his hand, stopping Ginny in her tracks.

"No buts. I know that you agents all like to think that you're invincible, but that's not the case. And we take concussions very seriously, so you're staying." He made a note on the datapad. "A nurse will be coming along soon to check up on you again."

"Well, will I get to be discharged tomorrow?" Ginny asked almost rudely.

The doctor gave her a dubious smile. "We'll see."

Ginny scowled. Waiting and seeing. Why on earth should she wait and see when the human key to her being free of the disgusting concussion was just a few minutes away down the corridors? Not to mention, she thought darkly, flicking a glance over at the screen of her phone, she still had the information to hand to Fury regarding the girl.

At this stage, Joanna was all they had and Ginny hoped that she managed to pull off what she had asked her to do. Ginny knew that her actions earlier that day hadn't been the most tactful, or the most appropriate, but something had had to be done. If Ginny had allowed herself to be taken, and she very nearly had, then the only person that she would be doing any favours was Joanna herself. And, given that wizards and witches seemed to be fundamental to the organisation, Ginny didn't want to risk being in the dark with no back up or way to contact anyone else.

Slowly, she leant back against the pillows that had been propped up against her back. Today had been too long, she thought tiredly. First, there had been that whole disaster with Greyback and then that explosion at the lab and now… She stared at the white ceiling. And now she was lying on a hospital bed, in a revolting gown, worrying about Joanna, and wishing that Hermione were there instead of a guy whom Ginny didn't know whom she felt about.

She turned her head, wincing as it gave a dull throb, and stared at Pietro. For the last hour, he had sat with her, putting up with her quips and complaints with nothing more than a frown and a few calm words. Ginny didn't know how he did it. If their situations were reversed and she was the one sitting in that chair, Ginny knew that she would have lost her patience ages ago.

"Pietro?" she asked suddenly. "Why are you still here? I mean, you could be sleeping or something instead of sitting in that nasty looking chair. Plus," she tilted her head, "I'm not very good company tonight."

Pietro snorted, but his eyes glinted mischievously. "Just because you are pissed doesn't mean that you don't make good company. Besides," his smirk widening, "this is nice, yes? Being in a comfortable hospital bed with nothing to stare at but the beautiful, blank walls?"

Ginny choked back a laugh. "I suppose that you would know, wouldn't you?"

She regretted the words the instant that they were out of her mouth, Pietro stiffening as her words hit home. "Oh, bloody hell. Merlin, I'm sorry, Pietro. I shouldn't have said that." Stupid, she told herself crossly. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He gave her a terse smile. "It doesn't matter. It's the truth, after all – I did spend months in here, in a room just like this one."

Ginny shifted awkwardly. Pietro's own trauma after the Battle of Sokovia had been something that they had left undiscussed and Ginny, for Pietro's sake, had been hoping to keep it that way. "I still shouldn't have said anything."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it d-"

"No, it doesn't. Besides, it isn't supposed to be a secret." He took a deep breath and murmured, "Everyone knows about it anyway."

Ginny fiddled with the edges of the sheets that she had scrunched up around her body. "What… what happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"You don't know?"

Ginny chuckled without humour. "I read some words on a page, Pietro. I seriously doubt that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s clinical way of dealing with things, while accurate, is a good representation of what you went through."

Pietro resumed the tapping on his knee. "It may not be a good representation, but it is one all the same." He tilted his head, his eyes suddenly serious. "I will tell my story if you tell me yours."

Ginny scoffed. "You already know everything."

"No, I don't. I don't know anything about this Harry Potter that your friends keep mentioning. I don't know anything about your family and why you chose to leave them." He shrugged. "When you think about it, we're very similar, you and I, so what do you say? If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?"

Ginny hesitated. "I… okay. Deal."

She hated her curiosity, she cursed to herself. She bloody hated it.

* * *

"Remind me where we're going again?" Sam complained. He turned to Hermione, who was sitting with an amused expression in the backseat. "He always does this. We always go somewhere and I never have any idea where we're headed until we actually get there."

"Ever thought that I might do that for a reason?" Steve asked.

"Nope," Sam said, scowling. "I've never thought that at all. But in all honesty, where the hell are we going?"

"Meeting a contact."

"One of yours or Natasha's?"

Steve's gaze hardened. "One of Natasha's. Which is why when we get there, you two have to be on full alert. I don't know who this person is – they were difficult to find – but I – we," he said, staring at Sam meaningfully, "have learned that some of Natasha's contacts can be… difficult to work with."

"No kidding," Sam said with a snort. "You remember that one guy who came at us like a frickin' avalanche? God, that guy was huge. He was big, and ugly, with this squashed face and had biceps that were as thick as my body." He shook his head in disbelief at the memory. "That was not a fun day."

"You meet many people like that?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"When it comes to Natasha and her contacts, then yeah, we've met a few," Sam said darkly. He turned to Steve. "Are you suiting up for this?"

Steve shook his head once. "Not for this one. If it ends up being that they betray us, then I don't want this meeting to be tied back to Captain America."

"And if it's tied to Steve Rogers?"

Steve fell silent and Sam sighed irritably. "You do know that you're both the same person, right?"

Steve tossed Sam a withering glance. "You know what I mean," Steve muttered. "The public… the public has this view of me as Captain America and if I break that, then I'm not only letting them down, but I'm also letting the team down. This meeting today has to stay as anonymous as we can manage."

"Got it. We can do anonymous or rather," Sam muttered, "we can try. There's no saying that it'll work, though."

"Not helping, Sam."

They pulled into a darkened car park in front of a large, well known supermarket chain. The place was almost empty with only a few cars left in the spaces and Hermione felt a shiver of excitement slink it's way down her spine. In her pocket, her wand almost seemed to grow heavier, as though it recognised the situation that its master was about to enter.

Steve and Sam hadn't wanted to bring her along, at first, but Hermione had quickly persuaded them – the more that she could find out about Bucky Barnes and his location, the easier and more accurate the spell would be when she cast it.

"So," Sam said, getting out of the car, "this it?"

"We have to do a little bit of walking first."

Sam glanced at Steve dubiously. "How much walking?"

"We're about half a mile out from where we need to be."

* * *

Pietro didn't like talking about what had happened in Sokovia. He hated recalling the memories of being trapped in those cells for months and months on end, never seeing the sun, not even being able to see his sister except for the odd occasion. He hated remembering the unbearable cold, the horrible food, and the pain that he had been subjected to on a daily basis. But most of all, he hated seeing the ugly faces of the scientists, as they and Strucker glared at him through the walls of his glass prison.

He could see them now, standing there with their precious white coats and clipboards. They were muttering amongst themselves, glancing at vital signs and other values that Pietro didn't understand. Every now and again, they would look over at Pietro, before focusing on their documents once more.

Pietro blinked, bringing himself out of the memory, and stared at his hands that were still blurring in an unrecognisable rhythm on his knee. His abilities weren't worth what he had been through and, with a huff of anger, he closed his fists tightly. For one of the first times that evening, he was still.

"Sorry," he murmured. He cleared his throat. "It is… it is hard for me to talk about this."

"Have you talked about it with anyone else?" Ginny's voice was concerned and soft and it was with effort that Pietro made himself look at her.

"I… Only with my sister."

"You know," she said quietly, "you don't have to tell me anything that you don't want to."

But Pietro rolled his eyes in an attempt to relax in response. "We made a deal. I don't go back on my deals."

"But-"

"But nothing. I made a deal." He paused again, trying to reign in his hectic thoughts. "I guess… I guess that my whole journey started two years ago. It was a Tuesday in February, when snow still lined the streets. The night before, there had been a vicious protest with gunfire and explosions and screaming. My sister and I… we managed to get out unscathed, but many of our friends did not. A friend of my sister's, Alexa, didn't live through the night, her burns and injuries were so bad." Pietro's voice faltered and he swore that he could smell the faint, nauseating stench of burnt flesh hanging in the air. He closed his eyes. "After that moment, after seeing the future of Alexa so brutally ripped away, my sister and I decided that we had to do more, that protesting was no longer enough, and a few days later, we found the perfect opportunity. Men, ones that we had never seen before, started turning up to the protests and handing out flyers. The flyers told us that we could do more, so much more, than what we were currently doing. They spoke of defeating the governmental regime, helping our country, helping our _people_." He laughed bitterly. "As you can probably imagine, it didn't take too much time or effort for both Wanda and I to be persuaded by what we heard and, right up until we were separated and we saw the first bodies being dropped outside like discarded trash, we truly believed that we were going to make a difference."

"But you have made a difference." Ginny's voice was low. "Every day, you are making a difference."

"Am I?" Pietro looked at her hollowly, before continuing. "The moment that we realised that we had been betrayed and deceived, we tried escaping. We got close – one time we almost made it outside – but we never got far enough. After our third escape attempt, they put us in cells made of glass, so that they could see us, so that they could 'monitor' us every day. Most days, they would inject us with substances, sometimes blue, sometimes silver, sometimes a bright, vivid green, but other days… On other days, we were brought into a separate room, where they would… where they would use Loki's sceptre." He shifted on his chair, trying to break the tension that had fallen over the room with a bitter smile. "Banner says that that sceptre is what gave us our powers. Maybe it is true, maybe it isn't. Maybe it was a combination of the things that they injected into us and the sceptre, but whatever happened, it gave Wanda and I the abilities that we have today."

"Do you ever regret it?" Ginny asked quietly. "Going to Strucker and receiving your gifts?"

Pietro didn't miss the way that Ginny emphasised the word 'gift' and he resisted the urge to scowl at her. "I don't regret trying to give my country a chance at a better future, but I do blame myself for the way that I rushed into it, unthinking as usual," he added sourly. "These people… Now that I look back, their techniques were so obvious, and no one thought to ask any questions. If I had asked questions, if I hadn't been so filled with rage and anger, then maybe Novi Grad would still be there, maybe my sister and I would still be normal. Maybe I would never have gotten shot."

"Pietro… You're normal, now."

"I'm enhanced," Pietro said resentfully. "When it comes to being normal, then I am the furthest thing from it. Everything that makes me special comes from me making an irrational, stupid decision that I should never have made in the first place. My DNA has been changed, altered and I will never be able to go back to the way that I was."

"Pietro," Ginny sighed, "no one can go back to being the way that they were. If everyone stayed the same, then where would we be today? Certainly not here, that's for sure, and personally, I prefer it that way."

"You wouldn't go back, you wouldn't change anything?"

"If you'd asked me a few years ago, then my answer would have been yes. But now… Now all I can say is no. I wouldn't go back and I sure as hell wouldn't change anything."

"Why?"

"Because," she murmured, bringing her eyes up to meet his, "then the future would be different and I don't want it to be different. Not any more."

* * *

 **Hey everyone! Another slower chapter this week, but things will be ramping up again for next week's chapter! Which reminds me...**

 **IMPORTANT: Now, this isn't set in stone, but I may not be able to update next Sunday, due to the horrendously (in a good way) busy week that I have ahead. I'm also going to London (Oh God) for the MCM Comic Con that is happening this Saturday, so if you happen to be going there, then message me! It would be great to meet you!**

 **Big thanks to everyone who supported last week's chapter and a special shout out to the lovely guest reviewer: Becca! Becca, thank you so much for your review and also for your continuous support every week, which is amazing :-)**

 **So, depending on how the week works out, I may or may not be posting next Sunday. But other than that, I hope that you all have a brilliant week and I will see you all again soon!**

 **HC**


	40. Chapter 40

Only in the darkness, can you see the stars.

 _Martin Luther King Junior_

* * *

Pietro's heart was thumping in his chest, his pulse flickering like lightning underneath his skin. Her scent – lavender mixed with something sharp and raw – filled his nose, and he resisted bringing a hand up and brushing her cheek. She was so strong. How was she so strong?

"What made you change?" he asked, his voice low.

"I don't really know," she murmured, leaning back on the pillows and smoothing down the sheets absently. Pietro breathed out, the tension in his muscles easing slightly at her increased distance. "I suppose it's been a combination of things, though," she continued. "I mean, when I was told to come here, I thought that I was cursed and I was determined to hate every moment of it, but now… Now, I've never felt more alive."

"Not even during your own war?"

Ginny shook her head tersely and Pietro wondered if it was guilt that flashed across her face so suddenly. "During the war, I was foolish. Naïve. I see that now," and she twisted the corner of her bed sheets in frustration. "I was barely a pawn playing a game of Wizard's Chess and I made decisions, did things that I didn't have the right nor the power to do."

Pietro raised an eyebrow sceptically. "I can't see you being foolish or naïve."

Ginny laughed hollowly. "I think that you would be surprised. You know, when I was in my second year, I poured out all of my feelings, all of my emotions into this enchanted diary, and I almost ended up dying. It was only because of Harry that I made it out alive."

"Harry?" Pietro asked curiously. The name sounded vaguely familiar.

"Harry Potter," she mumbled. "I… we dated, but in the war… He died." She took a deep breath and raised her eyes to Pietro's. "He was killed by Voldemort."

Pietro shifted slightly. "You don't have to-"

"No, I definitely do," Ginny interrupted bitterly. "I haven't spoken about Harry for years, because every time I think of him, I think about how we failed him, how Wizarding kind failed him. He never deserved to die, especially after everything that he suffered through."

Pietro swallowed hard. Harry Potter. He now knew where he had remembered that name from, because it was the name that had kept coming up in the discussions after Ginny had revealed her identity. Harry had been the saviour, the selfless one, the hero in a story and a world that Pietro himself could never hope to understand. For a brief, scary moment, Pietro wondered if he was good enough, wondered if he would ever be enough to compare to Harry, but he locked those thoughts away. He was good enough, he told himself fiercely, and he always would be. In a spontaneous act, he reached for her hand and grasped it tightly.

"How did he die?"

"A duel," Ginny said, her eyes glassy and her fingers tensed in his grip. "Harry and Voldemort battled to the death in one of the school's central courtyards and I just remember all of these hopeful faces and still bodies and rubble scattered everywhere. The duel itself seemed to last ages, but in reality, it was only a few seconds. But that's all it took. A few seconds was all it took for one spell to be cast, a spell which ended the lives of both of them almost instantly. The hours afterwards were, and probably still are the worst moments of my life. No one knew whether to celebrate, whether to be happy about the fact that Voldemort – our world's greatest murderer and torment – was dead or to grieve the dead.

"It was all so confusing and muddled and even now, I don't quite remember what fully happened. What I do know, though, is that I woke up the next morning and everything… everything just hit me. The fact that Fred was dead, that my mum had been killed, that I had ended the life of Bellatrix Lestrange, that Harry was no longer alive, and that I had somehow survived the worst bloodbath that has ever been seen in Wizarding history." She looked down at their clasped hands. "So," she murmured, "that's how he died. He died in a single, fucking, worthless duel."

Pietro, for the first time in a while, was speechless. What did you say to someone who had been through so much? Who had suffered through so much grief and pain and sorrow? So he said the only thing that he knew he could, the only thing that was worth saying.

"I understand."

And he did. He understood what it was like to watch those he loved die a pointless, ruthless death and he understood the grief and the anger and the guilt of being alive, when those around him had passed away due to no fault of their own. He opened his mouth to say something further, but Ginny surprised him with a move that he would remember for years to come.

She darted up from her pillows and unwrapped herself from her blankets, a small expression of pain passing across her face as she did so, and leaned over the small gap between his chair and her bed.

The expression in her brown eyes was sincere, her hair mussed and wild, as her lips softly pressed against the warm skin of his cheek, and Pietro thought that his heart would burst from sudden strain. "Thank you," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear, before she quickly withdrew back into the comfort of her pillows and blankets.

Pietro was momentarily stunned, only aware of the fact that he was grinning like a total fool after Ginny gave him a pointed, red faced glare.

"What?"

"You kissed me," he said, disbelief and surprise echoing in his voice.

"No- I mean, I kissed you on the cheek," and if it were possible, Ginny's cheeks flushed an even darker shade of red. "It doesn't count."

"It does," Pietro said triumphantly. "It absolutely does."

"Oh, come on, Pietro. Don't make me regret it."

"Regret it?" he scoffed, a large grin still etched on his face. "How could you ever regret it? There are some people out there that would kill to even touch this skin, let alone kiss it."

Ginny rolled her eyes, the last remnants of sadness disappearing from her face. "Shut up."

"Fine," he smirked, brushing an arrogant hand through his hair and still not fully believing that that had just happened. "So, if I remember correctly, you still owe me a story about this enchanted diary that nearly got you killed."

Ginny shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. "It's a long story, but basically, by writing continuously in the diary, I became possessed by Voldemort's past self, which led to the petrification of Muggleborns in Hogwarts. But the point is, is that I should have recognised the diary for what it was."

"And what was it?"

"A lie," she replied simply. "It was a lie."

And just like that, Pietro understood what she was saying, the point that she was making. Just like he had been seduced by the false promises of HYDRA, Ginny had also been unknowingly deceived by people, by things that were out of her own control, and they had both suffered for them.

In a way, though, he supposed, his good mood and elation fading, life was ultimately one giant lie. People lied to themselves, people lied to others, and for what? For a little bit more money, a little bit more recognition, and a little bit more hope that everything was going to be okay?

"Lies," he murmured quietly, "they are powerful things, are they not?"

"Indeed they are, which reminds me… I don't think that I ever apologised, did I?"

"Apologised?" Pietro looked at her in bemusement. "What for?"

"For lying about, well, everything. My magic, my family, my past… My whole life."

Pietro was silent for a moment. "You don't need to apologise," he said softly. "Your secrets are your own and I understand that now. I mean, I was angry at first," he admitted, "that you would keep such things to yourself, but now… Now I see why you did and I wonder how I ever could have been upset in the first place. After all, your culture, your whole way of life depends on the confidentiality of a few and if that confidentiality were to be broken…" He shook his head, his mind already imagining the grim possibilities. Just like the Inhumans, witches and wizards would be branded as threats, be seen as the enemies in a world that hated and feared both change and differences. Wars would be waged, lives would be lost all due to fear, and the thought made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Do you ever think about what would happen if humans were to find out about you?" Pietro wondered suddenly. "What would happen if you were to be discovered?"

Ginny tilted her head quizzically and shot him a questioning look. "I-"

"Agent Prewett?"

Ginny jumped slightly and turned to face the apologetic looking nurse, who was standing in her doorway. "Sorry to interrupt," she said, her eyes flicking between Pietro in Ginny curiously, "but Director Fury's just outside. I just thought that I'd give you the heads up."

Ginny nodded and Pietro turned to look at her quizzically. He had thought that Fury could wait until the morning.

"You didn't tell me that Fury was coming," he said, a note of accusation edging into his voice.

"Well," Ginny replied, sitting up with a small wince, "I told you that it was urgent that I see him. So, I called him."

"It can't wait?"

"No, it can't."

Pietro frowned at her response. One of the reasons why he had brought her to the hospital in the first place was in the vain hope that she would put her work off to one side for just a few hours, but, he thought with a wry smile, he should have known better – it was who she was and he wouldn't have it any other way.

When Fury entered the room, he did so without introduction or notice. Instead, he stormed up to Ginny's bedside, an anxious glare on his face and his hands clasped tightly behind his back. Maria followed him dutifully and Pietro wondered if she ever got sick and tired of being his second, doomed to follow Fury everywhere. He snorted at the thought.

"You said that it was urgent?" Fury demanded, eyeing Pietro briefly before turning his attention back to Ginny.

"You could say that," Ginny murmured and she tossed him her phone. "I've got a contact inside TEPHRA. I… ran into her at the lab and, with the promise that she would be unharmed and remain out of jail, I managed to persuade her to help me."

For a moment, Fury was completely silent and Pietro could almost see the cogs spinning in his head.

"You managed to get a girl to be our eyes and ears for us inside TEPHRA," he deadpanned.

Ginny nodded once. She had been monitoring the status of Johanna almost all night, but the girl hadn't stopped moving and besides a few words of menial conversation with the driver, she hadn't said anything either. "Yes, sir."

Fury snatched the phone into his hands and automatically handed it to Maria. "Give this to Stark," he demanded. "And download all of the available data that we've received so far. Also," he paused, "notify the Avengers and Prewett's team and tell them to come in. If things go south, we're going to need them. All of them."

Maria nodded her head in response. "Got it," she said, her fingers already tapping rapidly on the screen of her tablet. "But do you really think that this could be it?"

"I've got a gut feeling," Fury growled and Pietro snickered lightly. "Got something to say, Mr. Maximoff?"

Pietro shook his head in response, but the tiny grin didn't leave his face. "No, sir."

"And you, Prewett? Anything else to report?"

"No, sir."

"Will you be able to work should the worst happen?"  
Ginny nodded firmly, determination lighting her eyes. "Absolutely, sir."

"Good."

* * *

The woman was tall and thin, her back ramrod straight with tension. Her clothes were dark and shapeless and a small, netted veil covered one side of her face, Hermione not realising until later that it was there to hide a vicious scar that stretched from her forehead to her chin.

The woman stepped into a puddle of moonlight as they approached, but it wasn't until she recognised who was walking towards her that her shoulders relaxed.

But only slightly.

"Do you have what I asked for?" she asked, her voice low and ragged.

There was an accent in her tone that Hermione couldn't recognise and she tilted her head, edging slightly closer towards Steve who shook his head at her enquiring look. Hermione nodded lightly, but didn't lower her gaze – the stare that he had given her was one that she recognised all too well.

The woman stepped forward again, more confident this time, and reached a spidery hand towards Steve greedily, her eyes wide and searching. "Do you have what I want?" she demanded, and her eyes flashed between Sam and Steve impatiently. "Do you have what I want?"

Steve passed Sam a meaningful look and Sam sighed, making his displeasure clear at the situation that they were in, before digging his hands reluctantly into the pockets of his jeans. "We have what you're after."

"Then hand it over."

Steve folded his arms. "Not until we know that you're not going to run off."

"Run off?" the woman chortled, and her grating laugh filled the otherwise silent pathway. "It is not my style to 'run off', as you Americans so crudely like to say. Neither am I disloyal and you would be fools to think otherwise." Her eyes finally flicked to Hermione. "And you're a pretty young thing, aren't you?" she murmured, her gaze ravenous, her lips pulling downwards into an ugly smirk. "Young and pretty. Pretty and young. They scarred my face, you know, Pierce and his… followers. I was doing nothing. I was only doing my job, but yet…" she pointed to the line on her face and ran a single, flaking nail down it. "Yet, they still gave me this."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Well," she laughed, "that's the question of the century, isn't it, and not one that can be answered. But…" she paused, "I thought that there would only be the two of you visiting tonight. That was our deal and precious, little Natalia must have told you how much I like my deals."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Sam gave her a small shake of his head, and she quietened.

"What's that?" the woman hissed, black eyes glittering in sick glee. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Cat got yours?" Hermione challenged, decidedly ignoring Sam's warnings. "You know what we're here to have, so why don't you just get on with it?"

The woman smirked and tossed her oily hair over her shoulder. "English," she mused. "I never liked the English. They're too brash, yet too polite. They never say what they mean, but instantly expect others to know what they're talking about. It's not what I would call a positive combination." She glanced up at Hermione from underneath her eyelashes. "You're no better, but if you insist, then I must confess that I heard something a few weeks back about an old friend of HYDRA's."

"Bucky's not HYDRA's friend," Steve interjected sharply, but the woman shot him a disdainful glare.

"If my source is correct," she continued, picking at her nails, "then he's in Europe. To be a little more specific, Eastern Europe is where you might want to start looking."

"Europe," Sam said. "Eastern Europe. That's all you can give us."

"What more do you want?" the woman simpered back. "More information? But I've already given you some."

"But not all of it."

"Maybe not, but that wasn't the deal." She stretched out a palm almost lazily, but Hermione could see the tenseness of her muscles, the slight quivering of her fingertips in the dull light, and it gave the woman and her desire away.

"Give me what I came for."

Steve's reply was sharp and without room for reason. "No."

The woman recoiled as though she had been slapped and Hermione stared at Steve incredulously.

"No?" the woman hissed. "Are you sure about that, _Captain America_? Surely you're not that stupid."  
Hermione nudged Steve's back. "Just give it to her," she murmured quietly.

"But-"

"What we've got is better than nothing."

"The girl's right," the woman said in a singsong voice. "Maybe you should listen to her or there'll be trouble…"

Hermione glared at Steve. "Just do it."

A few tense seconds passed, none of them daring to move, as Steve's expression hardened. Finally, he tossed a small packet on the ground at the woman's feet and watched blankly, as she hurriedly picked it up and clasped it to her chest like a precious stone. Hermione didn't miss the small caress that she gave the clear plastic and a wave of pity built of inside of her. Hermione had no doubt that this woman was as strong, as smart, and as lethal as Natasha, but here she was, her whole life reduced to the fleeting contents inside a tiny, clear bag.

"Pleasure doing business with you," she snarled gleefully and she turned around, her baggy clothes flying and her vein bouncing, as she began to skip her way down the street.

The moment that she had disappeared, Steve loosed a frustrated breath.

"Europe," he muttered bitterly. "That's all we got."

"Well, at least we know he's not on this continent," Hermione said logically, "and in terms of what spell I'm going to need to cast, it makes it a lot easier."

"How?" Steve said irritably. "How does this make it any easier? Out of all the people I've spoken to, out of all of the records I've read and all the people I've tried to find, this woman, this Olga Linevovitch, was supposed to be the one. And she knows. I know that she knows where he is, but," he trailed off, his hands clenching into fists.

"Steve," Sam said softly, "calm down. Look, man, we can get around this. Dodging and researching and following leads that don't exist… It's pretty much what we've been doing the whole time anyway. Besides, Hermione's right. A little bit of information is better than no-"

The buzzing of their phones interrupted what Sam was going to say and he swore, as he scanned over the message that they had all been sent.

"Well," Sam muttered, "this can't be good."

* * *

Neville received the notification on the phone that S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him and he sighed in annoyance, as he tried to open it up. It had been weeks, he thought in frustration, and he still hadn't gotten the hang of the Muggle technology that everyone used to communicate with – Merlin, even Malfoy of all people had figured out how to use it.

With a huff of defeat, he jammed the phone back into one of his pockets, hiding it from view. When Shacklebolt had contacted him about coming here and being a part of a temporary team, Neville had thought that, in the face of everything that he had seen and done, it would be easy.

But, both figuratively and metaphorically, he had never been so lost in his life.

Muggles, all for but a few things, had come up with ways that could do things that even magic couldn't do, like manipulate the basic structure of cells and create machines and programmes that could give the user infinite information.

Muggle were, in so many ways, ingenious and he couldn't help but admire them for their achievements.

Deciding to simply go and find one of the others to ask about the message, he began meandering throughout the halls, hoping that he would come across someone whom he knew. He supposed he could always go to Malfoy, who had become suspiciously good at texting over the last couple of days, and ask for help, but just because the man was reformed, didn't mean that he was cured of his derisive sarcasm – he could already imagine what the blonde would tell him. Besides, he thought, he didn't know where Malfoy was anyway.

"Erm… Neville?"

The call of his name caught him off guard and he turned around curiously, searching for the person who had said it, before noticing the brunette standing at the end of the corridor.

He walked up to her slowly. "Wanda, right?" he asked uncertainly and she nodded. Out of all of the Avengers who Neville had to deal with on a weekly basis, he had probably had to deal with Wanda and her brother least of all. On reflection, it was odd that he had barely seen them, barely spoken with them, when they were the ones who were the most mystical out of the entire team.

"Did you get the message?" she asked tensely, pulling her jacket more firmly around her shoulders.

"I got the message, but I didn't get the chance to read it."

"Well, it says that we are to report to the conference room immediately."

"Oh," Neville said, thoughts already beginning to race. "Okay. Is that where you're headed, then?"

She nodded and they started heading in the direction of the lead conference room that was used for both mission planning and monitoring. Neville had only been in there once and remembered feeling overwhelmed by all of the screens, all of the voices and people yelling orders into small microphones. "Why do you think that we were called out? At three in the morning, no less, which reminds me. What are you doing up?"

Neville pursed his lips. "Couldn't sleep. And I don't know. Something must have happened."

"Do you think that it had something to do with Ginny?"

"Ginny?" Neville replied sharply. He had heard a rumour that she had gone on a mission the previous afternoon and he felt a stab of worry for his friend. He hoped that she hadn't gotten herself into the type of nasty trouble that had habit of finding her. "I'm not sure."

"Well, I hope that she's okay."

Neville silently agreed.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and the only other thing that I have to say is, is that the end is in sight! I don't know about you guys, but this story has been a lot longer than I originally planned it would be and the romance has been a lot slower coming as well. Oh well. We're nearly there!**

 **So, as usual, huge thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and another huge thanks to everyone who has favourited and followed this story. Special shout out to this week's guests: Becca and CeCe Klendale.**  
 **Becca: Thank you so much for your wishes and kind words! Comic Con was awesome.**  
 **CeCe Klendale: I didn't update last Sunday, due to both Comic Con and a hectic week. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, though, to make up for it :-)**

 **I hope that you all have a great week and I will update again next Sunday!**

 **HC**


	41. Chapter 41

Storms make trees take deeper roots.

 _Dolly Parton_

* * *

The car pulled to a slow stop, the tyres grating against gravel, and Joanna peered hesitantly out of the window. She suppressed a shiver, as she observed the run down shack sitting harmlessly on the side of the road. The walls were wooden, and the tin roof was ragged and decrepit. Several of the windows had been smashed in and if Joanna looked more closely into the gloom, she could just make out the colourful graffiti inside.

So, she mused darkly, this is where she would die. This is where everything that she had worked for over the years became nothing. And a hysterical laugh bubbled up in her throat, before she closed her eyes tightly and told herself that there was still hope, that her target, Ginny Weasley, was still listening and she brushed a hand over the small object that Ginny had given her hours earlier. She had placed it in her bra, hoping that even these men wouldn't go to such lengths to search her.

Unless they had listened in and another shiver trembled through her small body. God, she hoped that they hadn't, because if they had… She swallowed hard. The consequences didn't bear thinking about.

"You ready?"

The voice of the driver made Joanna jump violently and he smirked, tilting his head in amusement. "Well, I guess that we'll see soon enough, won't we," he said, and he stepped out of the car, shutting the door with a loud slam. "I'll just be a minute," he called from outside the car and Joanna watched as he ran up the steps and into the darkness of the shack.

For a moment, she was completely still before she grasped that she was well and truly alone. Without a second thought, she leapt into action, suddenly desperate at the unexpected chance to escape. Her hands wrestled with her seatbelt and she finally unclipped it with a snap. Her hands were shaking with adrenaline, her skin pale and clammy, as she crawled over the back seat and towards the door. If she could just get out of the car, then she would be safe. She could use her gift and they would never have to know where she went.

But her promise to Ginny stilled her hands and her heart leapt into her throat uncomfortably. But if she got out of the car and if she did manage to run away, then where would she go? It wasn't as though the area that she was in was heavily populated and if she left, then how long would it be until she could eat or drink again?

Hours? Days? Maybe she would even die before she got the help that she needed.

Death in the desert or death by the hands of those who were now her puppeteers? The question circulated in her mind for what felt like hours instead of seconds, before she slowly, reluctantly withdrew her trembling hand from the door handle and hoped to God that she wasn't making the biggest mistake of her entire life. But she had made a promise and as long as Ginny kept hers, then she would have nothing to fear. She wouldn't get in trouble, she wouldn't die, she would be able to live the life that she had envisioned for herself all of those years ago, and it was with those thoughts in mind that she forcibly relaxed against the car seat.

Everything would be all right, she told herself. Ginny was listening.

From outside, another door slammed shut and Joanna whipped her body around, still on edge from her brief excitement, and looked curiously at the car that had pulled up behind them. Her eyes widened as she realized that it was the same make, same model, same colour, and even had the same scratch, shaping like a horseshoe, etched across the hood. Vaguely, she wondered if the numberplates were the same as well, before deciding that they must be – no one would put so much effort into making two cars the same if they didn't have the same numberplate. Shrinking into her seat, her back pressed again the worn fabric, she watched as the driver of the car traced the same steps that her own driver had made and stared as he too vanished inside the house.

She wondered if there was someone in his car, someone that had made the same mistakes that she had, before her thoughts were confirmed with horrifying clarity. As though in slow motion, Joanna watched as the back door to the car crashed open, the hinges squealing loudly, and gulped in terror as a skinny, young boy exit the car in a panic. In the dim light, Joanna saw his frenzied, panicked eyes, saw the sweat dripping down the side of his face, and the vivid fear that so obviously controlled his body. With a desperation that Joanna could understand all too well, she watched wordlessly, her hands clapped to her mouth, as the boy started sprinting into the dark desert.

She hoped that he made it. She hoped that he-

A loud crack echoed through the air. He hadn't even made it ten metres, as the boy who had been so alive with human emotion only seconds before, dropped to the ground like a graceless stone. Blood soaked the back of his grimy shirt and Joanna turned back around, her breath coming in short gasps, her vision darkening around the edges.

It was a test, she realised shakily. The drivers left the cars to test them, to see who would face up to their actions and she was suddenly very glad that she hadn't left the car.

She waited another half an hour and in that time, another two cars pulled up outside the small shed. The only difference was, was that this time, she didn't watch as she heard the drivers leave their cars and forced herself not to hear the desperate slamming of doors, before that final crack snapped throughout the air.

Coward, she thought to herself miserably. Coward, coward, coward. She was such a damned coward. She could have yelled, could have screamed, could have done anything to let the others in those cars know what awaited them if they decided to make a break for it.

But maybe it was for the best, she told herself firmly, shrinking even further into her seat, as her own, now familiar driver exited the house. A snide, triumphant grin was sitting on his face and her breathing hitched, as she saw him tuck a small fortune of bills into the back of one of his pockets.

Sick bastards.

They had been betting on them. And in her brief fury and humiliation, she barely even noticed, didn't even care as the driver wrenched her out of the car and towards the ruined house.

The broken bodies lying on the dusty ground didn't even receive a second glance.

* * *

Fury watched the little, now motionless blip on the screen, his hands clasped in front of his chin grimly. So, this was the girl that Prewett had recruited, he mused. A girl, who at any point, could betray them all if she wished. But even he had to concede that someone was better than no one and if it could lead S.H.I.E.L.D. to the heads of TEPHRA, then the risk was worth it. He only hoped that the risk paid off.

Strangely, he was reminded of Natasha when she had first entered S.H.I.E.L.D., young and horrifyingly dangerous with, if she so chose, the ability to kill all of them while they slept. Barton had been the one to bring her in, defying all of his orders to give the Russian assassin one last chance and by God had it paid off.

Maybe, he thought, this girl would be similar.

"Sir!" one of his agents called suddenly.

"What is it?" Fury demanded, stalking over to him.  
"Shots fired in the background, sir," the agent reported, adjusting one of the dials on the board in front of him.  
"The girl injured?"  
"Doesn't appear to be," he stated. "Frightened, though, but then again, who can blame her. She probably didn't sign up for this."

"No one ever does, agent," Fury muttered. "No one ever willingly signs up for any of the shit that we have to do, but it has to get done anyway." He straightened slowly. "Let me know if her status changes. If she even breathes funny, I want to know about it."  
The agent nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, before the agent turned back to his screen, leaving Fury to his own thoughts.

* * *

The inside of the shed looked exactly like Joanna had envisioned it. The plaster was mouldy and cracked, the stench of rat faeces overwhelming. The wood underneath her feet groaned and creaked with every step and dust coated the shelves and tables in thick layers.

Just as she had seen outside in the car, graffiti covered the walls, the colours unnaturally bright in the dimness. Joanna almost wanted to ask the driver to stop pushing her forward, just so she could get a chance to read the words, but her courage failed her.

"Where are you taking me?" Joanna whispered and she hated how her voice sounded so small, so weak in the gloomy silence. She couldn't believe how much she had changed. Barely a week ago, she had been fighting for her survival on the streets, determined to earn her place in the world, and now… Now, here she was, being led on a path that could only result in death.

Coward, her mind whispered to her and Joanna could only agree, as the driver's grip tightened around her upper arm.

"I'm taking you where you need to go," he said.

"And those… others?" she gulped. "What's going to happen to them?"

"They're going to be disposed of."

She hated the way that he said that, like the bodies lying out on the ground were nothing more than mere piles of rubbish, ready to be dumped into a bin.

"And me?" she dared to ask. "What's going to happen to me?"

He was silent for so long, that Joanna didn't think that he was going to reply, before he said, his voice a low murmur, "I like you, girl, so I'm gonna be honest with you. Truth be told, I don't know what they're gonna do with you. But, out of everyone that turned up today, you're the only one who stayed. You almost left, I know you did, but in the end, you still stayed. Now, that could either be a very good thing or a very bad one, and if it's the bad one… Well, let's just say that you would have been better off leaving the car."

They wove deeper into the house and Joanna, nearly feverish with fear, could swear that the shack hadn't looked anywhere this big on the outside. Maybe it's the like the TARDIS, she thought somewhat hysterically. Bigger on the inside than on the outside.

She didn't know for how much longer that they walked, but to Joanna, it felt like forever, until they finally arrived at a small room, lit up by fluorescent lighting. The room smelled like rotten eggs and Joanna gagged, as she was forced onto the hard wooden seat located in the middle of the room.

"Sorry about this," the driver muttered, picking up the rope that had been placed at the legs of the chair. He unravelled it quickly and efficiently and Joanna wondered how many times he had done this, wondered how many times he had strapped someone to this chair. The rope, as he pulled it taut, chaffed against her already bruised skin and Joanna winced. "Sorry," the driver said again. "But it's got to be like this."

Joanna was pretty sure that it didn't need to be like this at all, but in a way, a very small part of her could understand. He was only following orders. Just like she had been.

"Good luck," he said finally, as he tightened the last knot. "I hope that they don't kill ya."

Joanna almost laughed in response, watching with thinly veiled disgust as he turned his back on the room, on her.

Bastard.

"I hope that you enjoy your blood money!" she couldn't resist calling, her fear momentarily abandoning for a last second of spite, and she felt a ripple of satisfaction tremble through her, as he paused. Joanna almost thought that he would turn around, that he would face her, but he didn't and in the end, all that remained of him were his bitter, disappearing footsteps.

Joanna didn't know how long she waited, but by the time that someone arrived, she was shivering not only from fear, but from cold as well. She heard their footsteps first, followed by their heavy breathing, but she was so numb, so resigned to her fate, that she couldn't bring herself to care anymore.

She was going to die anyway, she thought to herself miserably. She may as well accept her lot with open arms.

The woman who stepped into the room was massive. Her arms bulged underneath the thin fabric of her t-shirt and her thighs were as thick as Joanna's entire body. Her hair was long and greasy and when she smiled, there was only a large, gaping hole – not a tooth was in sight.

"Hello, sweetheart," the woman boomed, before the first punch slammed into Joanna's jaw. "I'm sure that you already know why I'm here, but seeing as I enjoy this kind of thing, I'll tell you one more time. I'm here to give you what you deserve, seeing as you failed in your mission."

"Then why don't you kill me instead?" she gasped, wincing in pain. "I thought… I thought that that's what you did to people like me, people who are failures?"

"Normally," she replied tightly, "but that's not what the high-ups want. For whatever reason, they want you alive. The only thing that they didn't specify, though, was what condition you needed to be in. So, I thought that I'd have a bit of a play before they come in here."

Joanna felt her heart drop and wondered whether or not death would have been preferable to the torture that she was about to suffer through. "So," she whispered, her voice shaking, "this brings you joy then, does it?"

The woman shrugged, a toothless, gleeful smile spreading across her face. "You could say that, I suppose."

"And you know what you're doing, then?" Joanna didn't really know what she was talking about, wasn't really sure why words that could get her into even deeper trouble than she was already in were exiting her mouth. But she decided to go with it. Maybe, if she could keep the sadistic bitch talking, she could delay her own punishment.

"I could do this in my sleep," she scoffed in arrogant response. "Why else do you think that I would be doing it? They wouldn't just let anyone do it."

Joanna tried to nod in understanding, but realised that it wasn't a very good idea when a mix of both bile and acid rose threateningly in her throat. "I can imagine," she said thickly. "So, what do they call you?"

"Many things," the woman said and Joanna thought that she could detect a note of pride in her voice.

"Well, they call me-"

"Don't," the woman hissed suddenly, knotting the ropes brutally. "Don't tell me your name. I don't want to know."

"Why?" Joanna muttered sardonically, wondering if she had just ruined her chance of delay. "That ruin it for you, does it?"

The woman's jaw slammed into the other side of her jaw again.

"Shut up," she hissed. "Why did you fail?"

Joanna spat a glob of bloody saliva on the floor in answer.

"Why did you fail?" she said again, stepping menacingly towards her.

"Because…" she rasped, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. This was it, her brain was telling her. This was it and she braced herself.

"Stop!"

Joanna blinked, fluttering her eyelashes stupidly, her breath bated in her chest. She hadn't expected that.

"What are you trying to do, Mildred? Kill her?" the voice scoffed and Joanna raised her head curiously. "That wasn't what we told you to do. Besides, that's not how we treat our guests."

"I-"

"Yes, yes," the main said, waving his hand arrogantly. "Don't apologise. Just make sure that it doesn't happen again. Now, leave me and this charming lady alone."

"Yes, sir," Mildred muttered and she stomped from the room, huffing as she went.

"So," the man said, clapping his hands together almost eagerly, "let's begin shall we?" And he drew up a chair, seemingly out of thin air. Although, with everything that Joanna had seen over the last few days, she wouldn't have been surprised if it really had been synthesised out of nothing.

"What do you know about me?" he started off and Joanna looked at him incredulously.

"You stupid?" she rasped, spitting more blood onto the floor.

"No," he said brightly, "just curious. I was just wondering if, you know, you knew anything or had heard anything about me."

"You important, are you?"

He scowled at her obvious obliviousness. "In that case, then, my name is Peter. But you can call me Pete. Everyone else does."

"Well, I'm not everyone else, am I?" Joanna muttered and Peter nodded in vague agreement.

"No, I don't suppose you are, are you. I mean, out of everyone who has failed and thus arrived here, you're the only one who dared to stay in the car." He said it so nonchalantly, so blasé that Joanna almost missed the underlying warning tones in his voice. "So," he continued, "I thought, why not give you a second chance, why not wait and hear the reason as to why you stayed before taking any drastic action."

"Why I stayed? Is that all you really want to know?"

Peter spread his hands indifferently. "If you're willing to tell me, then I would be all too glad to hear it."

"The answer should be obvious."

"Then indulge me."

Joanna shifted. "I made a deal."

Peter leaned forward. "What kind of deal?"

"A deal with you lot," Joanna muttered. "I said that I would see this through to the end, and that's what I'm doing. I'm facing up to my cowardice and my failure."

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I hope that you all had a good week and I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter! I know that there's really not much of the Avengers in this chapter, but Joanna's POV is essential for what's about to happen next, which reminds me:**

 **IMPORTANT: I won't be updating next Sunday, because I have an assessment due this week, I'm in a two musical theatre performances (joining the musical theatre society was literally the worst mistake of my student life), and because this coming weekend, I am flying home for the first time since being at uni to see my family. So, as you can imagine, this week is huge and will most likely be super stressful, hence why I'm not going to have heaps to time to write.**

 **So, now that that announcement is over, I would like to thank this week's followers, favouriters, and silent readers. You're all amazing and the support that you give this story is phenomenal. Also, I'd like to give a special shout out to this week's guest reviewers: Becca and Guest! Thank you both so much for your kind words and your support for this story.**

 **I hope that you all have a brilliant two weeks!**

 **HC**


	42. Chapter 42

It hurts because it matters.

 _John Green_

* * *

Wanda was sitting in one of the padded chairs in the main conference room, watching as agents bustled around, tapping on tablets or speaking quickly and quietly into microphones. The atmosphere was tense, as though one single shout or misstep would make the place explode, and Wanda shifted anxiously, reminded of times long past. Unconsciously, she rubbed her hands together and felt the brief, comforting surge of power that flowed into her fingertips.

She let the redness hover above her palms for a moment, letting it weave in and out of itself in hypnotising patterns, as she allowed her skin to soak up its raw warmth. It was almost…

Wanda shut her hand tightly closed with a snap. No. It would never be beautiful. Nor would it ever be a comfort and she cursed herself for even considering that something so destructive could ever be viewed otherwise. For God's sake, this power of hers had torn people apart. It had ruined buildings and had helped to destroy the only place that she had ever viewed as home. It was ugly. It was ugly and brutal.

"Wanda?"

Wanda sighed at the gentle call of her name and she briefly shut her eyes, drowning out the sounds that were echoing around her. Vision. When would he ever stop hovering? "What is it?" she asked finally, her voice low. She didn't miss Neville's curious stare that was aimed at her and the android from across the room and she brushed it off with a small shrug.

"You seem anxious. I only wanted-"

Wanda let her eyes fall open. "I'm fine," she said, feigning a yawn and a small smile. "I'm just tired. This call was very unexpected." She shifted again in the chair and deliberately glanced around the area. She had only ever been in here once and, she withheld a hysterical chuckle, it had been on a simple tour.

The room itself was cold and windowless, the walls covered with a variety of computer screens. Some were dedicated to showing maps and vital signs and others were showing the profiles of people whom Wanda had never seen before. Her eyes landed on the picture of an elderly woman – Penelope Matereda, the caption underneath read – and Wanda found herself wondering why the woman's picture had been tagged. She looked normal enough, with dark grey hair that was tied into a severe knot at the back of her head and kindly, stern eyes, but maybe she wasn't who she seemed. Maybe she was a suspect or a victim or worse.

Wanda's gaze landed on another picture, this time a photo of a young boy who had been found dead in a dumpster two nights ago. His picture had been splattering the front pages of newspapers, because, if Wanda remembered correctly, there was no obvious cause of death and he was the fifth such person to be found that way.

"Have they called in all of us?" she asked suddenly, her eyes snapping away from the images that littered the screens. "I was just thinking that it must be serious."

Vision nodded and drew up a chair besides Wanda. "I do believe so," he answered. "Although I must confess that I'm not quite certain as to what we've been called in for."

"Same," Wanda murmured with a frown. "But then again, I don't think that they tell us all that much these days."

"They have their reasons."

Wanda could only nod stiffly at his response. "They always do." And she was right, she thought, because they always did. There was always a reason to not tell them a piece of information or intelligence, and, on the rare occasion that they did, then there was a high chance that it was a lie. Wanda was becoming sick of it. She yawned and rubbed her eyes tiredly. God, she was becoming sick of the lies and the secrecy and for perhaps the thousandth time, she thought back to the comforting array of Wizarding newspapers and books that she had hidden away in the nooks and crannies of her room.

An escape. Just in case.

Briefly, she entertained the thought of living like and with them. It was entirely possible that wizards and witches wouldn't accept her any more than anyone else, but maybe… Maybe they would see her as something more than the weapon that she was now so often thought of. Maybe they would even give her a choice, give her a second chance.

But then again, she had chosen this, hadn't she? She had chosen this the moment that she had stepped out of those doors in Sokovia and she had chosen this the moment that she had decided to tear that robot, that stinking piece of metal, apart. But choices could be changed and the future, unlike the past, could be reformed.

Maybe after this mission was over, she thought, she would go and talk to Ginny about possibly making the switch.

"Wanda."

Wanda jumped and she looked at Vision sheepishly. He must have been saying something, something that she hadn't bothered listening to.

"Sorry," she said. "Could… could you repeat that?"

Vision narrowed his gaze. "I was saying that you understand why. You understand why things must be kept from us."  
"Yes, of course." Wanda was tempted to roll her eyes. "For the greater good. For not only our own safety, but for the safety of others."

"Then I don't understand why you are distressed."

Wanda didn't see any point in telling him where her thoughts had originally been. He would only ask questions, questions that didn't really want to answer. "I'm tired," she repeated and she turned her head slowly away from Vision, watching instead as Malfoy and Luna entered the room and drew up chairs next to Neville. Malfoy had a silly little grin on his face and Wanda tilted her head in vague amusement, wondering who it was who had managed to do that.

"Wanda."

Wanda sighed again, this time in irritation, at the sound of her name. "What?"

"What is distressing you?"

"Nothing." And everything, she added to herself silently, as she watched the wizards across from her grin at something that Luna had said. The Avengers used to be like that, she mused. All witty banter and camaraderie, but now she didn't know where Natasha or Steve and Sam were half the time and since Clint had retired… Nothing had felt the same. She forced a smile onto her lips, as she turned around to face Vision. "Please, Vision. Nothing's going on. I'm just…"

"Tired?" he finished somewhat bitterly for her and Wanda nodded.

"Exactly."

Stark was the next one to arrive, looking oddly serious, as he immediately stalked up to one of the agents in the room and demanded to know where Fury was. Pietro and Ginny weren't far behind, and judging from Pietro's idiotic grin – something that strangely matched Malfoy's – and hovering stance, something had once again happened involving Ginny.

Wanda couldn't help but frown as she saw the wince that spread across her friend's face as she plopped into one of the chairs. Secrets and lies, she thought again – Ginny was going out on missions that none of her own friends were even allowed to know about. Wanda knew that Ginny and the others were separate to the Avengers, that they had their own agenda and style, but still. There was never any truth or straightforwardness anymore. No sense of trust.

Or, at least, that's what she felt.

"So," Fury's own arrival was as unexpected as usual, "we're here because of some intel that has just become available to us," he said, handing out a series of datapads, "and because this is our chance to deal with TEPHRA once and for all." He glanced around the table. "Where's Romano-"

"Here, sir," Natasha called, sliding into the room with her usual grace. "Sorry, I was just wrapping up some… unfinished business."

Fury arched an eyebrow wryly. "That unfinished business wouldn't happen to be knowing where the hell Granger, Wilson, and Rogers are, would it?"  
Natasha assumed a quizzical expression. "No."

Fury snorted and muttered something under his breath that Wanda didn't quite catch. "We'll just start without them, then," and he pointed to the tablets. "On your screen you will see the profile of Joanna Ranemann, a twenty-one year old female who became entangled with TEPHRA an estimated two weeks ago. She was recently taken to what we presume is TEPHRA's current base."

Wanda held her breath, as she looked down at the picture. A young, dark eyed girl stared back. This girl, Joanna, was so young, too young, to be getting wrapped up in all of this. She should be out living her life, not worrying that her next breath may be her last. Kind of like her and Pietro and, she looked up, Ginny and Hermione and the others.

"She human?" Natasha asked.

"Inhuman, although we're not sure what her abilities are or how long she's had them."

"How'd we get a read on her?"

Fury nodded at Ginny. "Through Prewett."

"And you reckon that some of TEPHRA's bosses are at this compound?" Tony interrupted.

"Yes, we do."

"Well, how do we know for sure?" Tony demanded. "We don't want to go in guns blazing and then discover its all some kind of hoax. How do we know that the girl's trustworthy?"

"Because I promised her something that TEPHRA would never be able to give her," Ginny interjected quietly. "Immunity."

Tony swore and Ginny glared at him.

"Well, what would you rather, Stark?" she shot back. "Would you rather take these bastards down or leave them alone to do their dirty work in peace?"

Tony scowled at her and Ginny leant back in her seat, satisfied.

"Well," Natasha said slowly, "if the intel is sound, then I say we go for it." She turned to Fury. "How soon can we be there?"

"With Stark's technology," Fury said with a sidelong glance at Stark, "half an hour."

"Then I say that we get moving." Natasha glanced carefully around the table, her assessing stare landing on Wanda. Wanda looked away. "Is everyone happy to move in on this?"

Slowly, everyone, including a reluctant Stark, nodded and Natasha grinned. "In that case, everyone suit up. I want to be out of here in the next ten minutes and if you're not on that plane, then you're getting left behind. Wanda," Natasha tilted her head, "would you wait behind a sec? I have to check with you about something."

"I…" Wanda felt the eyes of her brother and the others on her and she nodded tightly. "Sure."

Wanda, for some reason unknown to her, had always looked up to Natasha, which was funny considering that the assassin standing in front of her really wasn't a good example of a role model. But there was something about the way that Natasha handled herself that Wanda couldn't help but admire. Everything that she did was controlled, every word thought out and every movement planned, and that was what Wanda strived for. She wanted that control.

"You seem off," Natasha said bluntly, once the others had cleared out of the room. "Besides, Vision was watching you like a hawk for the whole thing, so what's up?"

Wanda shrugged and wished that the redhead wasn't so observant. "I'm just tired."

"Sure you are. Now, give me a real reason, or I'm grounding you."

Wanda's eyes widened in surprise. "But-"

"No buts. The rule of being in the field is, is that if you can't look after yourself, there's no way that you can look after others and seeing as Steve isn't here, it's my job to look after you lot. So," she folded her arms, "what is it?"

"It's… It's a long story."

"Give me the short version."

Wanda shifted uncomfortably.

"Now, Maximoff or-"

"It's personal. It's got nothing to do with the mission." She took a deep breath. "I can do this."

Natasha stared at Wanda sceptically. "You sure about that? Because my gut's telling me otherwise."

Wanda nodded and this time, she said the words like she meant them. "I can do this."

Natasha was silent for a short moment, her expression carefully blank as she considered Wanda's words. "Fine," she said and Wanda breathed out in relief. "But don't make me regret this, because I will not hesitate to ground you should I need to."  
Wanda nodded again. "I understand," she said thickly.

"Good. Now, suit up. You don't have much time and," she glanced at her watch, "neither does Rogers."

* * *

"How far away are we from the compound?" Sam demanded, as the car sped over dirt road.

"We're about two minutes out and, according to Nat, the team's flying out in five."

"Shit," Sam muttered. "Fury's gonna be so pissed."

"Fury's the least of our problems," Steve snapped and Sam sighed in irritation.

"Look, man, I'm sorry that tonight didn't go as you hoped that you would, but you gotta move on."

"Doesn't mean that I have to like it."

Sam shrugged. "You don't have to. But what's done is done and we can't do anything to change that, so let's just focus on what we have to next. Besides, Hermione said that she has enough information to go off, which reminds me," Sam said, turning around to face her, "how's that supposed to work, anyway? What, you just cast a spell and his location is revealed to you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at his rudimentary description of the process, but nodded. "If you want to be crude about it, then I suppose that what you just said sums it up nicely."

"Is it, you know," Sam said, gesturing with his hands, "a big spell?"

Hermione shook her head in amusement. "It's quite straightforward really, but depending on how far away the person that you're trying to find is, it can be taxing."

"So, how soon can you do it?"

Hermione sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She had been expecting that question ever since they had left the abandoned car park and, frankly, she was surprised that it had taken them so long to ask it. But despite the time that she'd had to think over the answer, she still didn't quite know what to say. Knowing Steve, he would want the spell to be cast as quickly as possible, but with the added stress of the mission that they had just been called to… It would be better to wait and see.

Especially given that she wanted to do her own research on the man, before solidifying anything. "I'll do it when I'm ready. You can't push things like this," she said eventually.

"You'll do it after we complete this next mission though, right?" Sam wanted to know and Hermione nodded vaguely.

"Like I said – I'll do it when I'm ready."

The car fell silent again and they each found themselves breathing out in relief, as the bright lights of the compound finally began to cut through the dense trees. They were going to make it, Hermione thought, as the car pulled to a screeching halt outside of the facility's airfield, a plume of dust flying behind them, as they leapt out of the vehicle.

"Oh, hell," she heard Sam mutter, as Natasha's slim figure started jogging over to them, "she does not look happy." And Hermione couldn't help but agree as the assassin stormed over to them, her expression stormy.

"Where the hell were you?" she snapped.

"Meeting the friend that you told me about," Steve retorted, as he slammed the car door and started stalking towards the bay to suit up, tension lining his body.

"Well, I hope that it was worth it," Natasha said moodily and she glanced back over at the plane. "You literally have four minutes to get changed."

"I know."

"So, hurry the hell up. And Granger? Prewett's been asking after you. Something about you doing a healing spell."

Hermione nodded absently in response, as she pulled her hair up into a tight ponytail. It was time to get down to business, she thought, as a grim smile tugged at her lips.

* * *

 **Hey everyone, I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter! Out of all the chapters so far, this one has literally been the hardest to write, because every single word has been like walking backwards up a mountain - hence the shorter word count for this one.**

 **Huge thanks to all of my followers, favouriters, silent readers and reviewers - you're all awesome! Special shout out to this week's guest reviewers: Becca, Leni, and MacieRaquelAbby. Your words are always appreciated.**

 **I hope that you all have a lovely week!**

 **HC**


End file.
